Spring on a World of Ashes
by King Under the Mountain
Summary: Sometimes, a new perspective is needed in an old galaxy. Sometimes, that perspective doesn't actually come from inside of that old galaxy. An ancient world, long abandoned, sees new life and a much needed revival. From strange origins, a legend can grow. OC Insert. Rated T for language.
1. Act 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to the Star Wars Franchise, but I wish I did.**

 **A/N: This is a compilation of a story that's posted on . If you want to see the more regular updates, go there. Fair warning, they're a bit shorter than these.**

 **Go here for more frequent updates:** **threads/spring-on-a-world-of-ashes-star-wars-oc.480538/**

 **Act 1: Chapter 1**

 **Definitely Not In Kansas Anymore.**

[Day ?: ?, ?, 2129]

Growing up, I thought I would live and die under Earth's blue sky and yellow sun. Our space tech hadn't advanced too much since I was born and was unlikely to become commercially feasible in my lifetime. Too much bullshit keeping our attention away from what mattered. Every human alive on Earth today was the descendant of an explorer somewhere in their lineage. We, as a people, were explorers. Always curious. Always wandering.

But easily distracted by meaningless bullcrap and laziness.

There we all sat on our dust ball, looking up at the night sky with our telescopes and wondering what was out there without bothering to go out and look. Yeah, we got a man on the moon. A couple of them, in fact. But that was nearly fifty years ago and we never did it again after the 70s.

Fifty. Years. We went from just developing atmospheric flight to space in sixty years. We barely understood the combustion engine when we invented a semi-reliable form of flight. Yet, less than two decades later, we started in on rocketry when we were still using canvas-and-wood planes. That's a pretty big jump if you consider how long it took to go from the Bronze Age to the Iron Age.

So, yeah. I'm not too impressed with what my homeworld has accomplished in fifty years. Well, about a hundred and sixty years actually, now that I think about it. I guess Earth is stuck in 2016 in my memories.

My story is a strange one, and long. I'm an old man now, pushing a hundred. I've been out and about in the galaxy longer than I ever lived on Earth, or Terra as I keep telling people. I refuse to be called an "Earthling." "Terran" has a much better ring to it, right?

I've been involved in conflicts that made the World Wars back home look like school yard brawls, if only because of the scale. I played galactic-scale speed chess with a man that had twenty times the amount of pieces that I had, and survived. I even took on students, despite my dislike of teaching. They're all dead now. Two fell to battle. One fell to something worse. The rest, to disease and old age.

And yet, I have survived it all, though not in one piece. I was blessed with good genes, a much longer than average lifespan, and extremely strange luck.

You know how they say that you can see your life flashing before your eyes just as you're about to die? Well here at the end, as I'm looking down the blade of a red lightsaber, my sight flickers back to the moment it all started.

* * *

[Day 1: January 1, 2017.]

I had always wanted to explore the stars, to set foot on an alien world.

Now, I'm kind of wishing that the universe had given me a bit of a heads up first. Why? Even though I'd gotten what I wanted, somewhat, there were some…side-effects.

When whatever got me here dropped me, my head felt like a grenade a few seconds after pulling out the pin. Everything hurt all at once. Light was blinding. Every sound felt like my ears were bleeding. Every smell was overpowering. Every touch was excruciating. And then after a moment of sheer _fucking_ pain, I blacked out just as suddenly.

I don't know how long I was out, but when I came to, I was sitting in the middle of a crater, roughly a foot deep and ten feet wide. The headache was still there, but reduced to a dull throb. It took a while for me to get enough energy to move, so all I had to stare at was the sun arcing over the sky. Which by the way, was very bright and in no way helped my head. Whatever happened, it…drained me, for lack of a better term.

After a few minutes, I finally got enough energy to sit up and get my first look at whatever I got dropped into…

I'd like to think that I'm a reasonably educated fellow that can identify trees when I see them, like pines, palm, deciduous, etc.

What I'm looking at right now, I'm not entirely sure can classify as trees, but it's the closest approximation I can think of. The trunks, for lack of a better word, were kind of a brown-grey mix, as though it was made of metal and painted over. The "leaves" looked like huge sickly-yellow fans dangling off of each branch. Given the apparent consistency of the trunks, I was willing to bet money that I could lose bits and pieces if they started falling.

I'm starting to think that this conveniently placed clearing/crater that I'm sitting in might be the safest spot for me within a few miles.

After tearing my eyes away from the "trees," I finally take inventory of what I've got. I'm still wearing the clothes I had on when I left my apartment this morning, pockets still full. Not sure how much good my smart phone or keys are going to be here, but it's probably a number close to zero. Shifting around reminded me that I had been wearing a backpack before this and that it was still there. Sliding it off my back, I heard a clanking sound that I don't remember associating with this particular item or anything inside of it.

Unzipping the main pouch, I found a rolled-up blanket, two full canteens, three bags of beef jerky, a couple boxes of raisins, and a bunch of tin foil wrapped packages, which turned out to be biscuits. All things that I'm fairly certain I didn't put in there. Searching the other sections revealed a flashlight with some spare batteries, a pocket knife, a compass, flint and steel, two rolls of toilet paper, some toiletries, my Kindle book-reader, and a small medical kit. A small note was stuck to the last item, typed in block print.

 _You have a long journey ahead of you, but this should help you get part of the way. Follow the sun's trail and you'll find the path._

In typical mysterious benefactor fashion, the note was unsigned.

That's not cryptic as hell. Well, at least they aren't complete monsters. They did leave me toilet paper after all.

* * *

 **Act 1: Chapter 2**

 **There Are Many Sticks Like It, But This One Is Mine.**

[Day 1: January 1, 2017.]

It took me an hour to figure out which direction the sun was headed, using a trick I learned while teaching an intro GPS course. While wary of the potentially deadly leaves, I used a stick to mark the position of the edge of the shadow produced by one of the trees, noting which direction the shadow moved every five minutes and making a new mark.

I probably could have just stared at the sky for an hour, but I have a thing about making stuff more complicated than it has to be.

It was a fairly sturdy stick, about waist-high, and I'm not ashamed to admit that I swung it around and made mock-fighting noises with my mouth while I waited. About fifteen minutes into the wait, I made the executive decision to take the stick with me and refer to it with capital letters. Blame my time in the Boy Scouts, but I had the urge to whittle it into something useful. Like a walking Stick. Or a whacking Stick. Depends on what I'm using it for at the time, I guess. In any case, it's the best weapon I can get my hands on at the moment. Punching the local predators does not sound like a bright idea, but that may just be my fancy edumacation talking.

On a side note, it turns out that those trees are not some weird wood-metal amalgamation like I thought they were. While that negated any new-found leaf related phobia, that didn't mean the wood was soft by any means. The bark (and I hesitate to call it that) was more like chitin. You know, that stuff on bugs. Which made it remarkably difficult to peel off with my knife and lead to much cussing under my breath. Though I eventually carved myself a grip before giving up, I'm pretty sure that I managed to dull the pocket knife in the process.

After checking the shadow and my compass, I was relieved to discover that this wasn't some bizarro world where the sun went from east to west or north to south. Grabbing my walking/whacking Stick, I set off on my grand adventure.

Now where's the obligatory old wizard offering side quests and magic swords? I feel like I got ripped off on this whole "mystic journey" deal.

* * *

[Day 1: January 1, 2017]

You know, my parents always said it was bad when you talked to yourself more than you did with other people, but with nobody else around there were few options. I'd talk with Stick, but he's a terrible conversationalist and he said some rather foul things about my lineage, so we're giving each other the silent treatment. So I've been talking with the only other intelligent life within at least a few miles: myself.

I haven't said much back, but then I've always been a better listener than a speaker.

Inane chatter with myself has always been how I've dealt with dead silence. I've been an introvert since I was a kid, so I like my alone time. But there's a big difference between my quiet apartment and the unnatural silence of this place. The apartment was comfortable because I always knew there were people nearby since I could generally hear them moving around. But this place?

There aren't even goddamn birds chirping. The occasional rustling in the distance made me jump once or twice since I started walking. Otherwise, I seem to be the only living thing besides the trees. I don't know if there are actually any people around. Or even animals for that matter.

I used to get uneasy when I stayed alone at my parents' old house, at the emptiness and random sounds from the house shifting. This…nothingness, I guess? The nothingness around me outright _unnerves_ me.

The crunch of dirt beneath my shoes feels like it carries for miles. A thought occurs to me as I walk. This place kind of reminds me of Ilos from the first Mass Effect game. Only, I'm not sure this place was ever inhabited. I've been walking for about three hours and I've yet to see any sign of artificial construction or basic tool use. Just trees, dirt, brown-green grass, more trees, and a creek.

I did find a footprint eventually. Judging by the size, it was from something I quickly filed in the "NOPE" category. A beastie with claws that big probably isn't an herbivore and I'd bet that I'm pretty tasty. Luckily, it wasn't heading east and I haven't found more since.

Checking my watch and the position of the sun, I've probably got about four more hours of sunlight.

Turns out, I only had two. Interestingly, this place (which by now I'm pretty damn sure isn't Earth) runs on a twenty-two hour cycle. That's gonna play havoc on my biological clock. And my wrist watch.

Fun fact: the bark on the trees isn't flammable. In fact, it's pretty much fire retardant. It took me about ten minutes to figure that out when I tried to make a campfire, another ten to peel the bark off some branches, and three seconds to figure out that lighting a fire anywhere near these trees was a bad idea. For reasons that would likely make a botanist cry, the trees' leaves were incredibly flammable. I scrambled out from under it, bag and Stick in hand, as every leaf above my head turned into hissing fire demons before dropping to the ground. Thankfully, that particular tree was relatively isolated, so I didn't accidentally cause a forest fire.

Naturally, campfire mk. II was made using a collection of brown-green grass and some leaves I knocked down with Stick. I made sure to make it in a small clearing this time, though I still almost caught myself on fire given how fast the leaves ignited. Given that I didn't know why they did that, I made sure to stay upwind of the fire at all times to avoid any potentially nasty gases it might be producing.

I wrapped myself up in my blanket before munching on a light meal of a few pieces of jerky, a quarter of a biscuit, and a few sips of water. Not really enough to fill me, but I did have to ration this stuff. Not really having anything else to do, I stared into the fire for a few hours, occasionally putting more leaves in and poking it with Stick. Serves the bastard right for what he said earlier.

Unfortunately for my special brand of crazy, the fire puttered out pretty quickly after I stopped feeding it, leaving me in darkness. I poked the embers a few more time before my eyes turned up to the stars to provide entertainment. That died as quickly as the fire did.

I couldn't find any familiar constellations or planets, though I could see slightly bigger points of light that I think are planets. The moon was outright missing. No dark blot where it should be. Just gone.

The realization that I wasn't on Earth anymore was acknowledged a while ago, but didn't really sink in until now. The trees were strange, but not outright alien enough to make the feeling kick in. But no moon?

Most people would probably be freaking out right now, or rather hours ago. Me? I…I actually feel kind of content. Slightly annoyed that I almost roasted myself, but content and maybe something else. I've had a weird relationship with my emotions since puberty. I started having spells of really bad depression during freshmen year of high school. Saw a counselor for two years, but wasn't medicated. It helped, but never made it go away completely.

Since then, I haven't been as expressive as I was when I was a kid. I'm not emotionless, it just felt like everything was muted, for lack of a better term. Like if emotions are supposed to be vibrant colors, I was seeing varying shades of gray. I can still feel them and tell the difference.

So when I got dropped here, I was more annoyed at the inconvenience than terrified at the fact that I wasn't even on the same planet anymore. In fact, I feel downright ecstatic to be on an alien world. Which is kind of odd since I haven't quite felt "ecstatic" in a long time.

Oh, and unnerved at the silence. Can't forget that.

I huddled under my blanket for a likely unrestful night's sleep.

* * *

[Day 2: January 2, 2017]

I groaned as I woke up, desperately willing myself to go back to sleep. I think I finally nodded off somewhere around 2 AM Earth time. Still bleary-eyed, I noticed a weight on my legs. I went to reach for it, thinking that I might have pulled my bag onto me during the night.

I felt something that was most certainly not my bag. I've seen enough cartoons and anime to know where this is going. Either A) it's going to be funny or B) I'm about to get mauled.

Now wide awake, I sat up slowly and looked down.

Curled up on my lap was a tiny bundle of adorableness. If I needed more proof that I wasn't on Earth, I just found it. The little thing looked like a cross between an armadillo and a housecat, and was about the same size too. Most of its body was covered in little mottled tan-brown plates, though there were sections of exposed skin covered with slightly darker fur at its joints and neck. Its ears, or at least where ears would be on a cat, were short, rounded, and unarmored. Its face was covered by the same plates as the rest of its body except for its eyes and lower jaw.

My touch and stirring had jostled it awake. Instead of going for the face, like I was expecting, it just looked up at me with its gold eyes. It didn't have a more than a nub for a tail, but I figure that it would likely have been swishing from side to side like a cat's if it did. I got the distinct impression that it was expecting something.

With a slightly trembling hand, I fished out a piece of jerky from my bag without looking away. If this thing is anything like my late grandparents' cats, attempting to bribe it is always a good first idea. It gave the meat a few sniffs before gently taking it from my fingers. I adjusted myself slightly on the cold hard ground as it ate. After partaking of my offering, it proceeded stretch, curl back up into a ball, and ignore me.

Huh. It really is a tiny, armored cat. Right down to it little padded…feet.

Yeah…I've seen that pattern before. My mind flashes back to the footprint I found yesterday. I recalled it being just a _little_ bit bigger. If this is the baby, where's mama?

The feeling of hot air on the back of my neck answered that question a lot sooner than I would have preferred.

* * *

 **Act 1: Chapter 3**

 **I Thought I'd Try a Career In the Circus…**

[Day 2: January 2, 2017]

It took a great amount of effort on my part not to void my currently full bowels and hold absolutely still. I felt the hot air again as the great beast behind me sniffed once, then twice. I closed my eyes and pleaded desperately with the universe.

 _Not food! Not food!_

A slowly-building growl caused me to immediately change my thought to something a bit more clarifying.

 _Friend! Friend!_

The rumbling growl faded away, followed by soft, though massive, feet displacing dirt. I cautiously opened an eye, only to find Mama standing in front of me, mouth only a few inches from my face. I couldn't stop myself from analyzing what I saw. Baby was a tiny ball of cuteness that was a mix of armadillo and cat. Mama, on the other hand, looked like a mountain lion got busy with a main battle tank and scared the fuzzy feelings away.

From what I could see, she was about ten feet long from nose to nub-tail and stood roughly six and a half feet tall. Based on size alone, she'd probably weigh in about the same amount as a Clydesdale, so around a ton.

Christ, those teeth are huge!

…And currently not chomping my face off, I am relieved to add. Slowly opening my other eye, I repeated my previous thought out loud, "Friend?"

That word was accompanied by a feeling of brief light-headedness. Must be adrenaline. Mama paused and sniffed me one last time before she did something that surprised the hell out of me. Her massive head lowered down to my shoulder as she started rubbing the unarmored part of her face on my jacket. After that, she just moved her considerable bulk past me and laid down with an audible thump.

If I had a mirror, I think I'd see a look of stunned befuddlement on my face. If I'm remembering my cat behaviors and physiology correctly, then I think I was just claimed. Rubbing her face against me would have released pheromones from glands in her cheeks that basically say "mine" to anything that can smell them. Not actually sure if she has those glands or if that's just in smaller felines.

Further thought was cut off by the cub shifting on my lap, reminding me that I had a full bladder. Gently displacing it, I rushed quietly behind a nearby tree. When I came back, I found the clearing had gained a new occupant.

I thought Mama was big. Daddy was a hell of a lot bigger.

Thankfully, Daddy was less inclined to rip my face off since I had been claimed as an unofficial cub. That didn't prevent me from being scared shitless when my new "brother" decided he wanted to play. I held real still for a while until I realized that the murdercats weren't going to tear me to pieces for messing with their young.

I can't tell you how profoundly disturbing I find that. To my understanding, there are no mammalian species, _absolutely zero,_ that would let some stranger anywhere near their young uncontested.

So I found my perpetually unnerved self playing with the miniature death machine for an hour, using my flashlight to make an improvised game of "chase the glowing dot." The gnawing dread eventually gave way to a content smile and some laughter. Growing up on my grandparents' farm gave me an appreciation for animals. Hell, I get along with animals better than I do people. Playing with pets is one of the few guaranteed ways I'd get myself to smile.

I just never thought I'd be applying those habits to horse-sized felines. I tossed a few pieces of jerky to the adults as I mulled over my predicament.

I'm still scratching my head at this whole situation. I've never dealt with big cats back home, so I have nothing to compare it to. Do they communicate telepathically and heard my thoughts? Am I suddenly a murdercat whisperer? Or was it all just a weird coincidence? They're giant alien war-cats. I can't really discount anything at this point, no matter how strange or improbable.

Eventually, I had to pack it up. My mysterious destination wasn't getting any closer by playing with Heracles. Yes, I named the little bugger. I named all of them. If the little one is going to be anything like his old man, the name fits very well. Also, because of the Nemean Lion story.

Daddy is Richard. Like King Richard the Lion-Hearted. That title was the only reason. Don't judge me.

Mama is Brunhild. I don't really know any female mythological/historical figures associated with lions, so I went the other direction. I think it's supposed to mean "battle armor" or something.

With a sigh, I slung my bag back up on my shoulder. Now that I was comfortable around them, I kind of didn't want to leave.

I smiled at each of them, "I had fun, but I need to get going. I can't just sit here all day." Even if they can't speak, that doesn't mean they are incapable of understanding me. Might as well be polite.

Just as I was starting to walk away, I stopped as I heard movement behind me.

Looking over my shoulder, I found that all three of my new friends had gotten up to follow me. I blinked. Once. Twice.

I couldn't stop the stupid grin from spreading across my face. I wasn't alone anymore.

* * *

[Day 34: February 3, 2017]

It's been about a month since I ended up on…wherever here is. I still haven't found any clues. I've been encountering more animals ever since the Murdercat Three found me, though they've been mauled horrendously before I ever see them. It's a nice gesture on their part since my food ran out weeks ago. I've been avoiding the local fruit altogether. I can't tell what's poisonous and what's not, so I decided not to take the risk.

Sleep's been easier to get, too, since we all gather around for warmth at night. They produce an astounding amount of body heat, which isn't exactly surprising given their size. Other predators, and I know there are more, don't mess with us. Seems my feline friends are apex predators.

Right now, I'm keeping an eye on the meat I've got roasting over the fire. I managed to craft a makeshift spit to cook a larger hunk of meat. I'm not quite sure what it classifies as. It's not fowl, pork, beef, or any other edible meat that I know of, but I haven't had any problems digesting it. Kind of bland, though. But I can't complain too much about having a full stomach.

I poke at a hole in my shirt and frown. I don't remember that being there yesterday.

My clothes are getting pretty worn and rather odious by this point. Lacking any other options, I've had to just stick it out. Our trail so far has stayed close to a stream, so we haven't had to go far for water. I've taken a few opportunities to scrub myself and my clothes as best I can, but the stink remains. Only so much I can do without soap.

I've noticed something a bit odd with me as we've traveled. I don't know where I'm going, but I don't have the feeling of being lost. Maybe it's because I've got a general direction to go off of. Maybe it's nothing.

Out on the horizon is the beginning of a mountain range. It's the first bit of landscape that I've seen that isn't a tree. I think I spotted something about half way up one of the mountains a few hours ago, but it may have been a trick of the light. Or I'm just getting impatient and I'm starting to see things. Either way, we'll probably get there in a more days.

* * *

[Day 36: February 5, 2017]

I'm cussing out my past self for actually wanting to find other people as I sprint-limp through the brush, Heracles on my trail. The reason for my limp?

I've got a _fucking_ bullet in my leg. And the guy who shot me has friends. A lot of friends. They're all hooting and hollering a storm behind me. Oh and speaking of storms, a big thunder storm rolled in about ten minutes before they found me. So sight is limited too, just to add onto the shit-fest.

I got separated from Richard and Brunhild by some pit traps, though judging from the screams earlier, they managed to get out. I'll say again, they are some vicious beasties.

 _Wait, why did the world just move sideways?_

I didn't get much more time to think as I slammed into the trunk of a tree. Groaning, I rolled over. My eyes refocused in time to get a look at my attacker.

She, and she's definitely female, is covered up in tanned hide, dyed blue, and her face hidden by a blank-featured bone-white mask with two eye holes. Maybe she's some kind of shaman? Rather than any weapons, she's just holding out a hand, palm facing me.

 _Wait, what?_

Before I can analyze what the _fuck_ just happened, she starts motioning like she's going to do whatever she did again.

I'm not sure what prompted it or why, but I interposed Stick between whatever she threw at me and my squishy self. And by God, it worked. Some…invisible thing slammed into Stick and stopped. My improvised weapon, on the other hand, was glowing like a lightbulb and rattling like crazy.

Apparently, this shocked shaman-lady almost as much as it did me, because she spent only slightly less time staring at it. But it was enough.

Heracles roared with the power of a beast several times his size and went for the face. Or mask, in this case. His claws carved furrows into the material, latching on tight. In the end, she ripped the mask and Heracles off of her head, revealing a face that wouldn't have been out of place in Hollywood.

In what little light I had, I saw dusky skin, black hair, and dark brown eyes on a face that wasn't quite delicate, but not masculine. I'd guess her age would be about late twenties or so. She'd be a lot more attractive if she and her buddies weren't, you know, trying to kill me. But you know the most troubling fact?

She was human. Not some weird alien monstrosity. Human. And trying to kill me. Can't stop reiterating that last bit.

Heracles' flying tackle-hug had given me enough time to get back on my feet. Taking Stick in two hands, I gave a roar of my own and stagger-charged the woman. While she was recovering herself, I swung with my now glow-in-the-dark cudgel, connecting with her right arm. A thunderous boom rang out, followed by a sickening crack and a scream of pain. The thought to swing again crossed my mind, but not before the feeling of lightheadedness that I had come to associate with all of the strange crap on this world came back with a vengeance. Now very dizzy, I took a few steps back as I tried to make the spinning stop.

Evidently, that was a mistake. My not-so-downed opponent tried something different. Something sparked in her good hand before it was thrust in my direction. Only luck had me get Stick in the way in time to try and intercept a bolt of lightning.

Luck only went so far, however.

Like before, Stick lit up and shook, but only for a split-second. Why a split-second? Because after that split-second, Stick exploded like a frag grenade. The force of the explosion knocked me on my ass and likely scrambled my brain.

Because if I were in my right mind, I don't think I'd be giggling while poking at the shards of wood imbedded in my chest with the hand that looks like it tried to arm wrestle Edward Scissorhands.

My head swam and cleared for a second, enough to register that my would-be killer was actually incapacitated. Not dead, I could see her impressive chest rise and fall slightly. A yell from a different direction drew my attention to a masked man running and pointing a spear at me, likely intending to put it in a very uncomfortable place.

His yell turned into a scream when a tan blur slammed into him, and ended abruptly as a gurgle. My eyes only focused enough to be able to recognize Brunhild. At any other time, I might have been sickened to see the globs of dark liquid around her jaw. Right now? I just don't care.

 _Help…_

She knelt down far enough for me to drag myself onto her back. While the plates weren't exactly comfortable, it was safe.

My vision fades in and out as she runs. Intellectually, I know I'm losing blood from the shards in my chest, the cuts on my hand, and the bullet in my leg. I should be in a lot of pain, but I'm not. My brain's sluggish, likely a concussion.

Can't let myself pass out…

I bite my lip to try and keep myself awake. It was only somewhat successful. My eyes droop closed and snap open a few times.

Huh. Guess we were closer to that structure than I thought. Brunhild seems to know where she's going. Or where I need to be. We've passed under some kind of archway. Maybe there was a door there at some point.

Lightning strikes in the distance, illuminating the world for a brief moment.

It's a ruin of some kind. Shaped stone. Worked metal. Artificial. Old. Ivy growing over everything.

Abandoned.

There's nothing here but a tomb and ghosts of a bygone age. What is this place?

Brunhild plods towards the back of the ruin. A tree? What is it with this place and goddamn trees? She kneels by the trunk and I slide off. I weakly drag myself up so that my back is pressed against it.

Things are starting to fade out again.

 _Help…_

The world spins. Brunhild makes a low rumbling noise and tries to lick at the cuts on my arm. Without thumbs and tools, that's probably the best she can do.

Just as I am about to pass out, I see something moving out of the corner of my eye.

"W-Who?" I ask.

A deep, rumbling voice sounds from behind me in reply as I succumb, "I am Ood. Rest, sapling. You are safe."

* * *

 **Act 1: Chapter 4**

 **When in a Forest, Make Like a Tree**

[Day 38: February 7, 2017]

You know, I think I've gotten used to having the sun be my alarm clock. Painful as hell, but effective. I manage to pry my eyes open and not look directly into the giant ball of flaming gas. The Trio are piled in around me, with Heracles in his usual place on my thighs. At least he didn't try sleeping on my ches-

Holy shit, how am I not dead? I was bleeding out of more holes than I've ever wanted and loopy as _fuck_! I should have bled out before I ever woke up again.

A glance down told me part of the how. Not only was I shirtless, someone bandaged me up. A quick check of my bag (which I had somehow kept a hold of during that clusterfuck) told me that those were my bandages. I sure as hell didn't treat my own wounds. I sincerely doubt it was those shaman people either.

No explanation for the concussion, though.

I remember Brunhild carrying me here, then ruins and a tree…

The feeling of chiton-bark at my back reminds me that I'm still leaned up against said tree. Prodding Heracles off my lap, I lever myself to my feet with Brunhild's help. She's nice like that. Well, that and I'm still fairly terrified of Richard's sheer size. I'm relieved that none of them still have blood around their mouths and claws. I'm not a hemophiliac, but seeing blood outside of a body bothers me.

I shivered in the cold air as I hobbled over to my coat. Yeah, these clothes have finally given up the ghost. I don't think I'm going to be able to scrub my own blood off them any time soon. The only thing salvageable seems to be my jacket.

I guess I should be more concerned that my right hand doesn't look like hamburger anymore. Got some badass scars though. Badass scars that look like they've had a few months to heal. My leg and chest don't hurt much either, just slight pinches.

I could understand there being no pain last night, I was running on adrenaline. Still, I grimace. My leg may not hurt, but that doesn't mean it likes having me moving around. I quickly find somewhere to relieve myself before I topple over. Stick would have been real nice to have right now, but he went the way of the hand grenade.

No explanation for that either.

I've got a lot of weird shit that needs some context. A random stick I picked up off the ground was able to absorb and redirect friggin' magic. I made friends with giant murdercats by thinking real hard about it. Tribals in freaky masks tried to murder my ass. Oh yeah, and I'm in this place to begin with. Answers would be real nice right about now.

A look around the ruins showed a few relatively fresh animal corpses. The fact that there's more than one indicates that I was out for at least a day. I checked the sun's position. Morning. I was out cold for at least a full day. Checking my watch, even though it's off by two hours, confirmed this.

I limped back over to the tree and the Trio, plopping myself down. I ran a wary eye up the trunk. There was a reason I was brought here. There is someone or something here. Wh-

 _I am Ood._

That phrase flashed back into my mind. I heard it when everything went dark.

Ood. It's a name, familiar. My brain's still a bit sluggish, but it's chugging away, trying to remember. Wait.

Ood Bnarr! Jedi friggin' Master Ood Bnarr! The tree is Ood Bnarr. The last living Master of the Ossus Jedi Library.

Fuck. I'm in Star Wars.

Double fuck. I'm on Ossus. Before Bnarr was found by Luke and after Exar Kun got done with it. That means no way off this rock and xenophobic Force Sensitive tribesmen to deal with. Who have already shot me.

Good news, I know which continuity I'm in. Bad news, I don't know when.

It's not the Legacy era, because Bnarr seems to still be alive and the temple is still a wreck. I'm not sure if that evens out my chances of survival. Especially since Ood Bnarr appears to still be asleep. At least the Ysana (also known as the xenophobic Force Sensitive tribesmen) stay out of the temple ruins. Which also means I'm stuck here unless I want to get shot at again.

"Hello? Ood?" I call out loud, meanwhile questioning my sanity as I talk to a tree.

As expected, nothing. The wind shuffles some of his branches. If he's not actually asleep, I'm gonna be pissed. Then again, I can't recall Ood having much of a sense of humor in the comics. Feigning sleep for a cheap laugh would probably be out of character for him.

The minutes tick by as I stare at the tree. If I remember right, Ood woke up from hibernation when Luke and Sedriss Q were fighting here, throwing around the Force.

The Force.

Suddenly, a lot of the things that have been happening for the past month are finally starting to make sense. I befriended the Trio by thinking hard about them seeing me as a friend. I absorbed Force Lightning and a Force Blast. I always felt like I was going in the right direction even when I didn't know my destination. Every time something strange happened, I got dizzy.

That dizziness was me fumbling my way through the Force. Like trying to walk using a leg you never knew you had or speak in a language you just started learning.

Leaning back against Brunhild's flank, I scratched at her neck as I thought about what to try next. Ood woke up long enough to patch me up and accelerate my healing at a rate that until now I thought was impossible. Something I did shook him out of hibernation. I was propped up against him before calling out though the Force. Maybe I could try projecting a thought, like I did with the Murdercat Three.

Closing my eyes, I concentrate on a single thought and will it towards the tree before me. I may or may not have taken some inspiration from Kreia.

 _Awaken…_ I whispered through the Force. Maybe I took a bit too much inspiration as nothing happened.

 _Awaken_ , I thought a little louder. Nothing.

 _Wake up!_ I shouted in my head.

Then, I knew it worked, as my sight immediately started spinning. Watching Ood Bnarr wake up was, quite frankly, awe-inspiring. Untrained as I am, I could _feel_ him as he returned to consciousness. That feeling reminded me of a comparison between a pebble and a mountain. No points for guessing which one I feel like right now. He's been here for God knows how long. Centuries at least, judging by the condition of the ruins. Centuries of just drinking in the ambient energy in the environment. His branches creaked and cracked as he stretched and shifted, reminding me that Neti do have some ability to control their shape. Something resembling a face morphed into being about mid-way up the trunk.

We just kind of stared at each other for a minute. I wasn't sure where to start and I think he was examining me.

" **I trust your injuries are healing well?"** You could hear the age in that voice. Like a deeper version of the sounds old books make.

"Y-yeah," I internally cuss at the stutter, "Yeah, nothing's hurting. My leg isn't really supporting my weight too well, though. Kind of expected after getting shot."

" **Indeed,"** Ood agreed, **"Mild nerve damage is to be expected after a slugthrower injury. I have done what I can, but it will still require time to completely heal. A week, perhaps two."**

I blink at that. Jedi healing is damn near miracle work, apparently. Back home, a bullet wound might have lasting effects for months, at the least, especially for a calf muscle. Ood just shaved an obscene amount of time off recovery and physical therapy. I'm not even going to ask about how he treated the concussion. Well, I will, just in a different manner.

I took a deep breath and released it, "Would you be willing to teach me how to do that?"

" **Oh?"**

"Not just the healing, but all of these things I've been stumbling through for the past month. Why I was able to make friends with them," I nodded my head towards the murdercats, "among other things. I was guided here for a reason. I think it was to learn from you."

I honestly don't think that he'll refuse. In the comics, Ood Bnarr was portrayed as a dedicated scholar, always willing to teach those who wanted to learn. My age isn't a problem. After all, he was from before they started the whole training from infancy thing.

"I want to survive. I was dumped here by something and now suddenly I can do things that weren't possible back home. I want to learn how to control it before I hurt myself," I paused before looking down and muttering, "Well, hurt myself more."

The Neti Master seemed to be scrutinizing me as I spoke. The pseudo-face didn't really make an expression, not that I thought it was capable of it to begin with. I think he made it so that I wouldn't just be talking to a blank trunk. Rather considerate of him.

The silence dragged on long enough that I started to suspect that he fell asleep again. I didn't say anything. After all, Jedi love their tests and this might be one to test my patience.

I shivered a bit as the wind reminded me that I no longer had a shirt. I zipped up my coat with a little effort.

" **Very well,"** Those two simple words sparked a feeling of excitement in my chest, **"Before we begin, what is your name, Padawan?"**

"Isaac. Isaac Butler," I replied, "Thank you…Master Ood."

With introductions finished, I leaned back into Brunhild and listened as the ancient Neti began his first lecture.


	2. Act 2

**Act 2: Chapter 1**

 **What I Would Give For a Cup of Coffee**

[Day 47: February 16, 2017]

It's been about a week and a half since I stumbled my way into the Ossus temple. I've regained most of my mobility and don't need assistance with walking, but Master Ood says I'll have the limp for about another week.

Speaking of him, training under him has been…interesting, to say the least. Not in a bad way. It's just immersing myself the Force for the first time, consciously that is, didn't end well.

One minute, I was trying my hand at meditation. You know, that whole clearing the mind bit? Then, it was like I was back in the crater, the one I woke up in on that first day. My senses screamed as my brain took in all those sensations at once before shutting down. When I came to a few minutes later, Master Ood explained that it was a case of sensory overload. Simply put, I haven't been conditioned to handle the mental strain of having my natural born senses amped up that much. Apparently, it's a fairly common phenomenon, but only among older students like myself that have never actively used the Force. However, my case is still rather severe. They adapt slowly over the course of a lifetime, even if they don't use it. I've had to compress it into a month and it shows.

Because I can't naturally handle the load, I've been unconsciously suppressing my Force-given senses. Not cutting myself off completely like the Jedi Exile, more like stuffing cotton balls in my ears. It's why I haven't been exhibiting the danger sense that Jedi are renowned for, yet I'm still capable of using some powers. By getting them in small bursts, I've already started the adaptation process. The more I consciously use my powers, the easier the strain will get.

I've managed to learn a few tricks, like minor telekinesis, but I can only hold a five-pound rock in the air for a few seconds before I start getting a headache. Still, it's better than when I started. I can now consciously use some abilities instead of lashing out in a moment of panic. The bigger stuff has to be put on hold until I can overcome this hurdle, otherwise I'll have my brain leaking out of my nose.

Sensory abilities are right-out until my brain stops trying to melt down. Until my leg is completely healed, no physical enhancement training either. Despite that, I noticed my reactions are getting faster as I managed to duck out of the way of one of Heracles' flying face-tackles. The murdercats (and yes, I'm still calling them that since Master Ood doesn't know what they are either) are a lot faster than you'd think a Clydesdale-sized cat should be.

Strangely, I've had the easiest time with basic telepathy. Not the reading minds bit, but sending intelligible mental messages to other living beings. The only reason I can think of is that it was the first Force power I unconsciously used. I can have a halting conversation with Master Ood with thought alone, though I can't send complete sentences, only simple phrases. I'm not nearly as far when communicating with the Trio, though Heracles seems to comprehend pictures and feelings of intent. It might be because of his age that he's adapting quicker than his parents.

Best of all, I don't get dizzy anymore when using it.

I'm grateful that Master Ood is incapable of perceiving smells and that the Trio are being remarkably tolerant, because I'm starting to consider my armpits to be a biohazard. It's gotten to the point that my own stench has started making my eyes water. So now I find myself desperately searching the library ruins for a storeroom that survived, hopefully one that has soap in it.

Unfortunately, my search has been for naught so far. Aside from a few walls, almost everything above ground was leveled and/or vaporized by the supernova that took out Ossus. As a historian, seeing a library in this state is painful. It's like reading about the Library of Alexandria and wondering just how much was lost there.

Hmm…Above ground. I wonder…

 _Master…Any lower levels?_

The Ossus Library was never very big, so I'm not actually that far away from Master Ood and could just shout. I've just been taking as many opportunities to practice my telepathy as I can. If I don't use too much grammar or get too detailed, I can generally get my point across without garbling it.

 _ **Hmm…**_ Hearing him in my head through the Force is a lot different than hearing his voice through my actual ears. At first, the power behind it literally deafened me to all outside noise until he managed to tone it back. Now it just jars me a bit from my current task, _**There should be a stairway access in the northern-most corner. It is closed, so you will have to use the back-up mechanism.**_

That's an interesting little fact I learned about some of the older temples. In isolated places like Ossus, the temples couldn't always depend on reliable power, especially with weeks between resupply visits. So when the inevitable did happen, they were rigged up with manual releases so that you wouldn't be trapped underground or have to jump out a window. Thing is, the latch for those mechanisms can only be triggered with Force pushes and pulls, since they're hidden inside the architecture and machinery. Well, unless you want to try dismantling the whole thing. By then, it'd be counter-intuitive. I think I know why the Halcyon family stuck to Corellia now. Thankfully, Master Ood informed me where the catch was so I didn't have to go fumbling around with my Force senses, which are still unreliable at best.

I passed by the Trio on my way to the staircase. Only Heracles raised his head to watch me, but he soon lost interest and went back to sleep.

I don't have trouble finding the access. No, the problem is that it was buried when the wall behind it came down. Sighing, I start moving what I could with the Force. For reasons known likely only to the ancient Jedi, the Ossus Library was built like an old Medieval castle. It was very nice construction, but it was still shaped stone held together with mortar. Kind of an odd combination of ancient and futuristic. At least it all came apart in manageable chunks.

After a few minutes of headache-inducing defiance of gravity, the access door was cleared. Now where was that lever again…ah, there is it.

With pull, the mechanisms behind the door started, making a horrid racket as rusted gears forced it open. Good God, how long have they been sitting here idle? Better not close it. No telling if I'd be able to get it open again.

As my foot hit the first step, Master Ood's voice echoed in my head again, _**A warning before you go farther, Padawan. Do not open the lowest vault.**_

I stopped, confused for a second. Then I remembered what it was that Master Ood and Odan Urr gathered here and why Exar Kun attacked. It was a shaky thought that responded, _Yes, Master._

I'm not an idiot. When the Jedi Master tells you to stay away from something, you're going to stay the hell away from it. I just want some soap, not secrets.

I clicked my flashlight on when I hit the bottom step. Kind of puny, but it was the only light source I had on me. Wow, that's a lot of dust. There's a lot of it just floating in the air.

I panned the light around a bit to look at the floor and walls. Thin hallway. No footprints. Nobody's been through here since the library was destroyed.

I had a strip of my old shirt wrapped around my nose and mouth. This place has likely been sealed up longer than I've been alive, so there's no telling what kinds of nasty bacteria have been fermenting down here. I'd rather be smelling my own blood than contract something nasty in my lungs.

Back into the dead silence. At least up top, you can hear the wind. Down here, it's just me and my trusty flashlight.

…I've read enough fanfiction to know I shouldn't give the universe lines like that. Star Wars in particular.

It's freezing down here. I try to huddle deeper into my coat, but it's not really helping. Thankfully, the first door isn't far from the stairs. The mechanism for these is built into the door and they're all the same. A quick pull to a spot just off-center to the left causes the door to grind open. I squint my eyes as dust goes everywhere.

WhO cOmeS?

Holy Jumping-Jack Jesus!

I whip my head and flashlight around, trying to find the source of the voice. It's not mine, and it's not Bnar's. Aaand there's nothing. That's bullshit. I haven't even gotten to the room full of weird stuff yet. Jedi ghosts (and I'm pretty damn sure there are some here now) are supposed to be nice, not creepy as hell!

Now jumpy, I turn my attention back to the open room. Nothing much in here, just a bunch of slabs. Actually, they have buttons on them, so they might be hoversleds. Pressing the big red button on the panel connected to one confirms that.

Gotta say, Star Wars battery tech is pretty badass. I had batteries back home that barely lasted two months, much less centuries.

Looks like there are tool kits here, too. Might as well take one with me, figure out how to use it.

Guiding my prizes, I reluctantly limp further down the hallway. The next door reveals…a droid repair shop. Huh. Didn't think they had a big need for one of these. I mean I guess some of the records were stored in electronic databases, but I thought the majority of it was in scrolls and books.

Only two complete droids are in here, with parts for a few more. Guess the rest were up top when everything went to hell. One is a protocol droid, same model as the Czerka secretary in KOTOR 2. Don't think it's operational though. There are some wires sticking out where they're probably not supposed to. Likely the reason it's down here to begin with. As for the other one…

Astromech, T3 model. Likely used for maintenance of the facility. Unlike the protocol droid, I can't tell off the bat what's wrong with it. There are a couple datapads lying around, maybe there's something on them? I poke at one until it comes online, only to put it back in frustration.

Can't read the damn thing. Turns out written Basic is different than written English. Yet it's spoken the same way. Weird.

Kind of wish the droid was online. I could use some help getting stuff working again. Maybe Master Ood would know. Powering down the hoversled, I roll the T3 unit onto it before powering up the sled again.

The next room is down the next another set of stairs. I am now completely relying on my flashlight for illumination. However, it finally has something I need at the moment. Looks like an emergency supply room. It's got spare clothing (all robes), non-perishable food, and other stuff. And best of all?

SOAP! Or rather the Star Wars equivalent.

I pack as much soap and food onto the sled as I can, as well as slip a set of robes and boots into my bag. My grin is in full force as I push the sled back out into the hallway.

WhO ArE yOU?

Good feelings gone.

Now, between me and the deeper levels (which I had no intention of going down) was a glowing blue figure. Because this creepy venture wouldn't have been complete without a ghost showing up.

She might have been pretty once, but not anymore. A Miraluka, if the veil is anything to go by. Dressed in the tattered remains of violet and red robes, most of her ethereal body is horrendously burned, with transparent bone showing on the lower half of her face and hands. I don't know who she is, but she did not become one with the Force peacefully.

She let out a bone-chilling wail and sailed towards me. I scream as well and thrust my hands out, unleashing a wave of telekinetic power. It slams into her like a freight train, propelling her through the wall. Being a ghost and all, she didn't leave a mark.

I waste no time in hauling ass out of the lower levels with my hoard. I'll be damned if I have to go back down there any time soon.

Thankfully, the dizziness didn't hit me until I was back on the surface.

* * *

 **Act 2: Chapter 2**

 **Scrub a Dub Dub**

[Day 47: February 16, 2017]

I don't know how long I was out, but I woke up to Heracles batting at my face with an armored paw. After shooing him off, I gathered my spoils and trudged off to Master Bnar. We needed to talk, and my telepathy wouldn't be able to get enough details across.

" **I suspect that your venture to the lower levels was more exciting than you were anticipating,"** Ood's pseudo-face managed to raise an eye-ridge. Pretty impressive for a wood construct.

"Yeah," I replied, rubbing the new bruise on my face. Heracles may be small, but that armor still hurts, "I don't suppose you knew a Miraluka woman who used to frequent this place?"

" **Miraluka?"** The face blinks, **"I was acquainted with only one Miraluka Jedi, Vodo-Siosk Baas' apprentice. But she was not on Ossus during the Cataclysm."** Master Ood thought quietly for a few moments, **"Exar Kun was here just before the destruction of the library to claim a number of artifacts. Many Jedi were swayed to his cause. She may have been one of them, tasked with stealing several of the more dangerous items in the vaults below."**

"Well, it doesn't seem like she's passed on completely," I stop to see his reaction. He doesn't seem surprised. Then again, people from his era pop up as Force ghosts all over the place, no matter what side of the coin you're on. Neither Baas nor Ulic seemed to need training to do it, "And she wasn't happy to see me, but I managed to drive her off temporarily."

That surprised him, **"You did? How did you accomplish this?"**

I grumbled a bit before admitting it, "More panic-induced Force competence. A telekinetic blast this time."

" **Hmm. Fear is a powerful emotion, and not one that anyone should have to rely on to defend themselves. Especially a Jedi. I trust that further explorations of the sublevels will cease for the time being?"**

"Yeah," I nod, "I found what I needed," I perked up, "Oh, I also found a repair droid down there. Looks like it's fine on the outside, but I didn't want to go poking around in it before you had a glance at it."

Reaching out, I pulled the hoversled over to my hand with a light Force pull. Clone Wars era Jedi may tell you not to use the Force frivolously, but I need as much practice as I can get. Deactivating the hoversled, I left the droid on it while I gathered my supplies. I needed to go get cleaned up.

With a quick "I'll be back," I hopped up on Brunhild's back and took off. The nearest stream was close, but not close enough that I'd feel safe walking there. The Ysanna still patrol the area, but they tend to stick close to the obvious paths to the temple and their hunting beasts can't keep up with the adult murdercats. I've had a few close encounters with them, but I've been able to outrun them. I'd rather not get into a fight with them again, especially since I know who they are now.

So not only is the Library a ruin, it's a ruin haunted by long-dead space wizards. At least I grabbed enough stuff to last me for a while. I'd rather not have another heart-to-heart with the ghost lady for a long time. Preferably never.

But I know my luck isn't that good and that I should plan accordingly.

Brunhild doesn't make a sound as she plods through the woods. I keep my head on a swivel. The Ysanna have managed to sneak up on me before, and with my Force senses still not cooperating I need to be careful.

Oh yeah, they know I'm still in the area, but they aren't willing to follow me into the temple. I think at this point they're just keeping an eye on me. Now if I was trucking artifacts out of the temple, then my ass would be full of bullet holes. I think they've just noticed that I'm simply living there now, otherwise they would have shot Brunhild or Richard by now and left me to starve.

Hey, that branch over there might make a good quarterstaff. I've been needing to replace Stick, but I hadn't come across one I liked. I pull it towards me as we pass.

I grin as I feel the stick smack into my hand. While telepathy is the easiest ability for me to use, telekinesis has to be my favorite so far. I mean, aside from almost braining myself during the first few tries. But after the first time I got it right…that feeling of joy at my first visible display of power. I can't wait to keep going with the training. I've already learned so much in a week, and I know that there's so much more!

We reach the bank of the stream in short order and I slide off Brunhild's back to make my preparations. The water and the air are freezing this time of year. Ossus seems perpetually stuck in winter mode. It doesn't snow, but it rains a lot and stays cold. I quickly gather up some leaves and grass to start a campfire. I don't want to catch hypothermia just after getting my first proper bath in a month.

While I know that there might be people around, I just can't bring myself to care. I quickly strip off my tattered clothing and wade into the water with a bar of soap. And finally, _finally_ , I can scrub off a month's worth of pure stench. I scrub dirt, blood, and whatever else out of my hair. I'd do something about the beard, but soap doesn't help with that.

It's kind of sad that I'm taking such pleasure in such a small thing like being clean.

I take as much time as I dare, which is about three minutes at most, before trudging back out of the water. I retrieve my blanket from the shore, wrap myself up, and park my shivering backside next to the fire to dry off. Now that I'm done, Brunhild wanders over and curls herself up around me, giving me a warm armored cocoon.

I love the murdercats.

However, I have to get up eventually. I frown as I examine my new clothes. Not that they're bad looking, but that I never thought I'd see myself wearing robes. It's a fairly somber ensemble. The tunic and pants are light grey and the outer robe and boots are a dark blue. No fancy decorations or patterns, just plain fabric.

I slip into the underclothes and pants before moving on to the boots. Just as I'm about to reach for the tunic, there is a slight ping against my Force senses. My head turns just as Brunhild notices something.

I snap a hand towards my new staff. As it slaps into my palm, I bark towards the bushes, "Come out. I know you're there."

"I had thought it a fluke. But you are a wizard. Like us," A feminine voice replied.

I snorted, "Trainee wizard. Now are you coming out, or is my friend here going to bring you out?"

As they stepped out, I raise an eyebrow, "Now there's a familiar face."

The scratches on her mask gave away who she was. To be fair, she is in much better condition than the last time I saw her, though her arm is in a sling now. She was also trying to kill me the last time I saw her, so pardon me for not feeling too sympathetic.

"So. You here for something or are you just distracting me for your buddies?" I can't help but be a smartass sometimes. I should probably take care of that before it lands my ass in a fire.

The shaman raises her good hand, "Peace, wanderer. I mean no harm, merely to exchange words."

"Then lose the mask," Brunhild growls lightly from beside me as I say that.

Surprisingly, she does it without hesitation, hanging it on her belt. I can see her features a bit better, now that the sun is actually out. To be honest, she kind of looks like a younger version of my maternal grandmother. The dark hair and dusky skin give her a sort of Romani look.

Grunting, I planted my staff and retrieved my tunic. If she decides to try something while I'm distracted, Brunhild can take care of her, "Go ahead and take a seat. I have a feeling we're going to be here for a while."

She situates herself as I struggle my way into the tunic and wrap the belt over it. I plop myself down by the fire soon after. Like with Ood, we just stare at each other for a minute, trying to get a read.

I start this time, "So, how's the arm?"

"Healing," She replied curtly. Ooh, sore spot there, eh? "Though I seem to recall that you were more injured than I. It is curious how quickly you have recovered."

"Let's just say I made a friend," I answer just as quickly. I'm not sure if I should be revealing Master Ood's presence just yet. Besides, I didn't lie.

"Inside of the temple?" the shaman raises an eyebrow.

"Yep."

"Interesting," she hums. Her eyes pan over to Brunhild while her fingers roam the markings on her mask, "You share quite the connection with your beasts. When you were injured, they did not hesitate to come to your defense."

"I'm really good at making friends," I smile as I reach over and scratch Brunhild's chin. The resulting purr was earth-shaking. My smile grows as the shaman's eyes widen slightly.

"N-No doubt," She clears her throat, "You have quite the talent. The Lyrik are among the most dangerous beasts on this world. That you have the loyalty of an entire family is nothing short of incredible."

Huh. Lyrik. Guess I can't just call them murdercats anymore, "So, why did you approach me? The Ysanna and I haven't exactly been on friendly terms."

"Clarification. Are you or are you not a Jedi?" That single question stunned me into silence. A single fact that had slipped my mind and could have made this all simpler. The Ysanna still remembered who the Jedi are, even as their society devolved to their current state.

"Yes. Yes, I am a Jedi, though only a student," I replied.

"Then the Ysanna will trouble you no more," She stood up, "I have been satisfied. I bid you safe travels and clear skies."

"Wait," I started, "Maybe Master Ood could take a look at your arm."

"Master Ood?" The shaman cocked her head to one side.

"My teacher," I clarified, "The one I was rushing to meet last week. The Master of the library."

She is silent for a few moments. I can tell she's really tempted and now has more questions. However, she shakes her head, "Perhaps another day. Now, I must inform my tribe, so that we may cease hostilities."

"What's your name?" I stop her again, "Mine's Isaac."

"Hyra," She answered, a hint of a smile on her face as she replaces her mask, "As I said Isaac, safe travels and clear skies."

As she leaves, I have to wonder how long she was watching. I mean, she was pretty close when I called her out. I don't have a stalker now, do I?

* * *

 **Act 2: Chapter 3**

 **Everybody Was Kung Fu Fighting**

[Day 66: March 7, 2017]

This T3 droid is ludicrously filthy. I've been working on it since Master Ood assigned me to it two and a half weeks ago, and I'm still picking dust, dirt, and God knows what else out of its chass-

Dammit, there's another clump.

With a sigh, I guide the cleaning cloth to it, using telekinesis to get it to where my fingers can't reach. Cleaning the droid, much less repairing it, has actually proven to be one hell of a meditation exercise. Instead of extending my Force senses out towards everything, I'm concentrating it on a single thing. Well, a single thing made up of a lot of things.

It's effective too. I'm able to enhance my general senses without knocking myself out. Now, it only gives me a mild headache if I do it for more than a minute. I've also been able to use my more mystical sense on a wider scale, so now I'm constantly aware of just how many Ysanna are camped outside of the temple. As a side benefit, my danger sense has finally fully kicked in, though Heracles is taking that as a challenge.

That wasn't until recently, though. After my leg healed up completely, we were finally able to get started on martial training.

[Day 53: February 22, 2017]

With my limp gone at last, I was ready to get started on something a bit more physical. Don't get me wrong, Force training was awesome, but I needed to be moving. I was getting restless with my limited mobility.

Now, Master Ood has me working on basic katas, I think they're called. He hasn't told me which one I'm doing, but the big sweeping movements indicate that they're probably from Form I. It's more like a refresher for me, since the same basic principles are used in stage combat and even Tae Kwon Do bo-staff training. In stage combat, the movements have to be exaggerated so that they can be seen from the back of the audience. With a staff, you're using a weapon almost as big as you are, so there are only so many ways to swing it. Six target areas: Legs, upper arms, back, and head. Basic parries and strikes, nothing elaborate.

Step forward, overhead chop. Step back, parry overhead. Side step, parry upper right. Side step then forward, swing to the lower left. Step back, parry lower right, crescent disarm. That's just the opening of one of the katas.

I've been alternating between a sword-sized stick and the staff I picked up a few days ago. Both have been de-barked, carved, and sanded. They're not weighted to be proper training sabers, but neither I nor Master Ood want to risk another venture to the sublevels to go look for any. I prefer using the staff, since I've actually had proper training with it. Not advanced, Jedi/Kung-Fu Monk-level training, but training nonetheless. Still, I alternate because I can't afford not to know how to use a sword.

One of the ends of my staff smacks a rock out of the air, knocking it off its intended course towards my head. In lieu of proper training remotes, Master Ood has taken to throwing rocks at me with the Force for my deflection training. Instead of what you see in the movies, he's been throwing them at me while I'm doing katas, so I can get used to deflecting on the move.

I'll admit, I was fairly terrible when we started yesterday. Thankfully, Master Ood has phenomenal control and stopped them before they hit me. Well, at least when they were headed for sensitive bits. Pain is a powerful motivator and even the Jedi use it in moderation. I'd like to think I'm getting better. I've only been hit twelve times today. At least he's been merciful enough to not have me do it blind-folded yet.

Wait, one of his branches is holding a strip of fabric. Crap.

After being beaten black and blue by a hail of rocks for a few days, I can safely say that I despise blind-folded deflection training with a very un-Jedi-like passion. There is good news, though. I found out that if I turn off one sense completely, I can enhance one of the others safely. I quickly learned to rely on my hearing, though that wasn't quite the lesson Master Ood wanted me to learn.

I also got around to learning how to heal myself and others. I'm not that good at it yet, but it's progressing. Personally, I think he was just tired of patching me up so much.

* * *

[Day 66: March 7, 2017]

So yeah, I'm probably at the same level of proficiency as a Jedi toddler. Not encouraging, but expected after only a few weeks of training. Still, according to Master Ood, even a half-trained Jedi initiate is considered to be an excellent swordsman by galactic standards. Not because of any actual skill, but because the Force is just that much of a boost.

It really says something about the Mandalorian mindset and training when your average warrior is willing, even eager, to take on Knights and Masters solo and has a decent chance of winning.

I release a breath as I close up the T3 unit and gather my cleaning supplies. The rag is now a different color from when I started. Probably won't be able to salvage it. At least the cleaning is done. Unless Master Ood has something else for me, I could probably get started on the repairs. I tried my hand at it before, but then I found some things I really didn't want to stick my hand in. It's kind of weird, letting the Force guide me. My hand just kind of hovers over the bits and pieces, with the feeling of "this is right" and "there's something wrong here" floating through your head.

A ping in the Force alerts me to two presences approaching the temple. One feels like Hyra. I haven't spoken with her since that time at the stream and the Ysanna seem to be avoiding me. I don't know who the other one is, but since I'm only acquainted with Hyra, that's not surprising.

I might as well be polite and go see what they want.

* * *

 **Act 2: Chapter 4**

 **One Big Happy Family Dinner**

[Day 66: March 7, 2017]

I wipe off the last of the gunk from my hands as I reach the library's main archway, where Hyra and her friend are stan-

Holy crap that dude's huge. Where the hell have they been hiding him, behind the mountain?!

He's about seven foot even, looks like he could bench-press Richard, and carrying a sword that's bigger than me. Impressive for a man in, at the least, his fifties. He's dressed in the same colors as Hyra, though his hair and mustache are completely gray.

Either the truce is off and this is their declaration of war, or this is the chief of the tribe come to talk terms. Given that neither of them are wearing their masks, I'm relieved to bet on the latter.

"Judging by the lack of a firing squad, I'm guessing our truce is still holding," I remark with a smirk.

"Isaac," Hyra greets, "I was about to call for you. A benefit of your training?"

I shrug, "Among other tricks. I take it that you're the leader of the Ysanna?" I direct the question to the big man.

"Ysrik," He grunts. I guess that's his name, "Chief. Hyra's father." Huh. Man of few words and little grammar.

I look back and forth between the two. I'm tempted to make a "meet the parents" crack, but I don't want to risk getting broken in half. Any man that uses that few syllables tends to have a low tolerance for humor, "I assume that she took after her mother?"

"Hm," Ysrik grunts what I'm guessing is an affirmative and grins, "Strong. Next shaman."

If what I remember about Ysanna culture is right, the ones with the most Force potential are their shamans and chiefs. I briefly concentrate, scanning them. Neither of them are particularly strong, but Hyra is actually pretty close to matching me. Given the potential of the average Ysanna, which is pretty low, that's damn impressive. For reference, that's like comparing Palpatine to Zayne Carrick.

Hah. Good to know even stoic Hyra can be embarrassed by a proud father. Guess she doesn't know that I can sense emotions, since she's trying desperately to hide behind the mask she whipped up to her face.

It's also good to know that they weren't able to sense my scan. Kind of sad to see how much these descendants of Jedi have lost over time, "So what brings you here? I don't recall causing any trouble recently. Master Ood's been keeping me too busy. I don't think he'd mind some visitors though."

Both of them look hesitant at my implied offer before ultimately refusing. One of these days, I'll convince one of them to go talk to the damn tree. Hyra continues, "Perhaps another day. We came here to invite you to dine with the tribe."

I raise an eyebrow, "How do the rest of your people feel about this?"

Hyra grimaces, "Most are neutral at worst, but some look at you with fear or anger. We were hoping more exposure to you in a peaceful setting would soothe at least some of the worries they hold."

I hum, "Hm…And you, Chief Ysrik?"

He shrugs, "Trust Hyra's judgement." Wow. That's a pretty big show of faith, given the circumstances. I'm a relative stranger and he's risking his tribe's unity based on the word of the daughter I've only spoken to once. She must have gotten a hell of a lot more out of that conversation than I did.

I mull this over in my head for a minute. Master Ood and my own common sense have impressed upon me the need to think things through, including the consequences. If I refuse, then relations with the Ysanna stay as they are, perhaps worsen if they see it as a snub. If I accept, then relations might improve, but my presence may galvanize the ones against me. Both are gambles, but the latter has the potential for greater gain overall.

That, and it'd be irresponsible of me to do nothing. People died that night over a misunderstanding, even if I didn't kill them myself. I need to either make it right, or make amends.

Taking only my staff, I left with Hyra and Ysrik, heading west of my initial path to the library. That said, I left a mental command with Brunhild to shadow us from a distance. I may be trying to be friendly, but I'm not dumb enough to leave myself without an escape route. Things could get ugly real fast, and there are a lot more of them than there are of me. No amount of training could help me against those kinds of odds.

Settlement isn't the right word to describe what I see when we arrive. I'd call it a city of tents, made up of hundreds of temporary domiciles of varying sizes. The Ysanna are a nomadic people, even if they don't stray too far from the library ruins. With how vicious the lightning storms can get, they'd need to be able to pack up and haul ass as fast as possible to get to safety. They'd also need to be able to follow their food source, which is whatever creatures the Trio hunt (which I still haven't gotten a chance to get a good look at).

I'm starting to doubt my decision. Every voice we pass hushes instantly and I can feel the eyes of dozens on me, some curious, others wary. I can sense sparks of anger in a few, but they are kept at bay by the two people on either side of me. I suppose this is a taste of what it would be like to be a Jedi out in the wider galaxy.

I almost asked if the Ysanna had something like guest rights, but then considered that there'd be no feasible reason why they would. Aside from the Ysanna and myself, there has been no one else on Ossus since the cataclysm. I'll just keep my mouth shut until asked to speak and observe what's around me.

Most of the Ysanna are human, though there are some that display Near-Human traits. Their clothing is made primarily out of hide, though dyed a variety of colors. I can see resemblances between a lot of the people wearing the same colors, so I think clothing color denotes families. A sort of pseudo-clan identification system.

I'm quickly lead to the tent that I assume belongs to Ysrik and ushered inside.

I let out a breath that I didn't know I'd been holding in a quiet hiss, "Well, that went better than I was expecting. I'll take not getting shot again as a good sign."

Before I can quip too much more, the tent flap opens abruptly. A man, not nearly as big as Ysrik, strides in with a scowl on his face. He's about my height, a few inches shy of six feet tall. His pale skin contrasts heavily against the dark red hide clothing that covers him. He's clean-shaven and his hair is shorn nearly to the scalp. Two ugly red scars trail down the right side of his neck.

His eyes lock with mine for a brief moment and I shiver slightly under my robe. There is a _lot_ of anger and grief radiating off him. I didn't need to be a Jedi Master to guess how much of that was directed at me.

He exchanged some heated words with both Ysrik and Hyra in a language I didn't recognize, though it was likely Ysannan. I can't understand anything they're saying, but I can read the intentions of the conversation well enough through the Force.

In a few short words, he's _not_ happy I'm here.

More words were exchanged and voices were raised. As quickly as he came, Mr. Red leaves just as fast, throwing a glare towards me on the way out. I glance between the other two occupants of the tent. Ysrik's face looks like it's made of granite, while Hyra is clearly distraught.

I give them a minute to pull themselves together before asking the obvious, "So, what was that about?"

"T-That was Rivus," Hyra hiccupped, "Father's student and my b-bondmate. His twin brother was killed by one of your Lyriks, the female I think."

Shit. I remember that. I was loopy as hell, but I remember the man about to kill me after I took down Hyra. He was protecting his sister-in-law. Now I feel even worse.

"Is he going to try something tonight?" I ask slowly, trying not to sound callous.

Hyra looks down. Surprisingly, it's Ysrik that answers, "Yes. Challenge. Fight."

His daughter elaborates after taking a few calming breaths, "He's issued the challenge here unofficially, but he's going to declare it tonight in front of the tribe."

I feel a knot in my stomach, "Is there no way to talk him out of it?"

"No," Hyra chuckles bitterly, "He is stubborn and will not yield. It is what persuaded me to bond with him to begin with. He believes you to be responsible for his brother's death, and so is determined to exact his revenge."

"Is the fight to the death?" I ask.

"It is not supposed to be. No Ysanna would slay another Ysanna," she bit her lip, "However, unavoidable incidents have occurred in the past. I do not doubt that he would attempt to make it lethal," She sighs, "I should have more faith in him, but he has changed this past month. He has become quicker to anger and obsessive. He has attempted to gather others to deal with you, but Father and I prevented it. However, I do not know how long we may continue to do so. More people listen to him every day."

"You have my thanks, Hyra. You as well, Chief Ysrik," I reply, though my mind is elsewhere.

That knot in my stomach turns into a pit. Rivus is showing too many signs. He's dangerously close to Falling, if he hasn't already. That means I need to be careful and not underestimate him. Dark side adepts, no matter how weak or strong, are dangerous. One only needs to look at Haazen from the KOTOR comics for an example.

I settle into meditation as the Ysanna prepare for tonight.

* * *

 **Act 2: Chapter 5**

 **The First Rule About Fight Club Is…**

[Day 66: March 7, 2017]

The majority of the Ysanna didn't trust me enough to help out with food preparation, so I was left to my own devices for the hours before the big meal. For a tribe made up of hundreds of people, they are surprisingly close-knit. Hyra was able to name every person we came across, although I suppose that's part of her job as the future shaman. She got warm greetings from most. I got a frosty, though cordial, welcome.

Understandable. The Ysanna are a suspicious people and I'm probably the first outsider that they've ever met. I'm not part of the "what is known" category of Ossus. I suppose I'm like Obi-Wan in Episode IV, the mysterious wizard nobody knows anything about. Not quite the descriptor I thought I'd ever use on myself, but there you have it.

I didn't count on the kids though. Unlike the adults, they don't really have that instinctual fear of the unknown. If a kid doesn't know about something, they ask questions. A lot of questions. Also, personal space isn't a thing to them and they travel in packs. The little munchkins swarmed me as soon as Hyra walked off to check on something. I swear she did that on purpose.

I really should have seen this coming. They revere their ancestors (i.e. Jedi), grow up hearing stories about them, and then suddenly they have one waltz into their camp. It'd be like me coming home and seeing Batman climb in the window. Hyra would have known this…

That sneaky witch. I see her plan now.

With that realization in mind, I hunkered down to weather the Knee-High Inquisition. Thankfully, the same reverence that brought them over here also made them easier to calm down. After commandeering a chair, I entertained their questions one at a time. As expected, most of them asked about my "magic."

As I was about to answer, I noticed one of the smaller children huddling at the back. A boy, likely not older than five, with pitch black hair and brown eyes. He was trying to hide it, but I could feel his slight pain through the Force. He must have cut himself on a knife earlier and then tried to be a "big boy" and ignore it.

I look directly at him and beckon him forward. The other kids almost made to shove him to the front, but a stern look from me halts that in its tracks. I didn't want him terrified.

As he shuffles up, I ask, "What's your name?"

"Okko," He mutters, not meeting my eyes.

"May I see the cut on your arm, Okko?" I ask gently.

He's hesitant, especially since he was trying to hide it, but the Jedi respect came through and he rolled up his right sleeve. It's a small cut on the side of his arm, but to a boy his size it must hurt like hell. It's recent, as it hasn't stopped bleeding yet. As I slip my gloves off my hands, his eyes dart to the road map of scars on my own right arm.

I place my hands around his small wrist, but not touching it, and channel the Force into his skin. For a wound this small, I don't need to concentrate too much and can split my attention. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that a few adults have joined the circle, likely their parents. Many more eyes beyond that were drawn my way, their little used senses telling them that something was happening. I can even sense Rivus watching, though he glares and walks away.

It barely took a minute. I wipe away the blood sticking to his skin and reveal a thin, pale white scar for all to see. Jedi Force healing may be damn-near miraculous, but it's not perfect. It only accelerates what the body can do naturally, hence why I still have scars despite Master Ood's power.

If I didn't know it was physically impossible, I suspect Okko's eyes would have popped out of his head. The other children and some of the adults clamber over to take a look. Soon, all of them share that same dumbfounded expression, and more than a few awe-filled gazes turn towards me.

Next, a blonde girl, I'd guess about ten years old, shyly asks for a story. I lean back and think for a moment. I don't have any of my life, but I've got a whole trove of Star Wars stories in my head. With a grin, I pick one.

The circle, now comprised of more children and some adults, gathers close as I talk about Master Odan Urr's adventures in the Empress Teta system both before and during the Great Hyperspace War. The sheer bewilderment as they attempt to picture what a Draethos looks like is priceless and almost made me stop to laugh. The awe on their faces as they realize that I'm speaking about the founder of the Ossus Library makes my smile widen.

Their joy isn't coming from my talents as a storyteller, which I'm sorry to say are probably subpar. I'm giving them back their history, even if it's just a small portion.

One story leads to more. I tell them about the Trials of Zayne Carrick, the Fall and Redemption of Revan, and the Journey of the Jedi Exile. Before I know it, the sun has set and my throat is dry.

Hyra hands me a skin full of water, which I gulp down quickly. I sigh, "Well, I can't say that today's been boring."

She smiles in response. It's nice to see after the incident caused by my arrival, "According to your stories, a Jedi's life is rarely dull."

I snort, "Only the unlucky ones."

* * *

[Day 67: March 8, 2017]

It happened just as we thought it would. In front of everyone around the central bonfire, Rivus challenged me. I accepted. Refusal would have me labeled a coward and caused more to flock to his side. I would have preferred to avoid making this a public spectacle, but his open declaration made that impossible.

So now, I'm stripped to the waist and kneeling in meditation, going over my battle plan as I wait for my opponent.

Hyra informed me of the rules of engagement last night. Essentially, use nothing lethal. "Magic" is permitted, but not encouraged. To preserve what good will I've managed to generate, I'm only going to use Force techniques if Rivus does first. That leaves me with my staff, my fists, and my Form I training.

Form I, or Shii-Cho, is generally used by the Jedi to provide an introduction to combat before moving on to other forms. However, it was created before Jedi had functional lightsabers and was designed with the intent of combatting physical weapons, such as swords and staves. The rare masters of the form are incredibly unpredictable due to immersing themselves in the flow of the Force and relying on instinct, though they constantly teeter on the edge of losing themselves to it. In my opinion, advanced Shii-Cho is the second most dangerous form for a Jedi to use after any derivative of Form VII, Juyo. Fortunately, I'm not using the advanced version, though the basic version still retains elements of it.

I would have asked about Rivus' preferred fighting style and weaponry, but I decided not to push my luck with the Ysanna. Besides, asking his wife how to beat him would be in extremely poor taste.

Further rumination is interrupted by the voices around me dying out. Rivus has arrived, heralded by that maelstrom of rage I sensed yesterday. I can see why Ysrik picked him to be his successor. He's strong for an Ysanna. Not as strong as Hyra, but enough so that he may know some tricks.

Opening my eyes, I glance over him. Like me, he's stripped down to the waist. In each hand, he holds a single-edged straight sword. Ah, a dual-wielder. Lovely.

"It's not too late to stop this, Rivus," I try diplomacy one last time.

The muscles in his jaw bunch up as he hisses his response, "Shut up and fight, _Jedi_." He spits the last word like it's a curse and gets into position.

So be it. I stand up and ready myself. Traditional dual-wielding techniques on Earth were designed to have one weapon used for offense and the other for defense. I don't know if this holds true for the Ysanna or the Jedi, so I'll have to keep my attention on both blades simultaneously.

I slide my left foot forward and turn my right ninety degrees, bending my knees at the same time. I grip my staff in "medium style," with both hands evenly spaced along the weapon. Power attacks will be awkward, but it gives more surface area to defend with, which I'll need until I know how he fights.

Ysrik looks at both of us for a moment before shouting, "Fight!"

Rivus roars and charges, slashing at my left arm with both swords. Aggressive approach then. Power attack to overwhelm my defense. It would work just fine if I block like an idiot.

Luckily, I'm not an idiot. I parry instead.

Catching the blades on the end of the staff below my left hand, I sweep all three weapons over our heads, diverting his momentum. At the same time, I let go with my left hand and elbowed Rivus in the face before jumping back.

He glares at me as he works his jaw. I was aiming at his chin, but I hit his cheek instead. Sadly, he's a bit too sturdy to be jarred by that.

I shift my grip to "short style" and go on the offensive. I advance and unleash a fast barrage of strikes to his left and right sides, alternating between the arms and legs. The sudden aggression puts him off guard for a brief moment, allowing me to get a hit in on his left arm and right leg. I didn't get back in time, and took a slice to my left forearm.

Gah! Bastard…

Rivus sneers as he examines the blood on his blade, "One for me. Now for my brother."

I don't respond to his taunt, which seems to infuriate the man. Personally, I think the whole "Jedi stoicism" thing is their version of Dun Moch. There's not much that's more irritating than being ignored.

I can feel the rage building up inside of him. There's no good way to end this. Either I win and he gets more enraged, or I lose and possibly die. Unfortunately, I'm not selfless enough to sacrifice myself.

Without the Force, my only advantages against him are speed, reach, and the versatility of my weapon. He's got strength, toughness, and more weapons. How can I use what I've got to take him down?

Go for the weak points. Joints. Nerve Clusters. Throat.

Keeping my face blank, I feint a thrust towards his head, forcing his swords up to defend his face. Just before I would strike, I switch my grip to "long style," allowing the staff to slip as I move until I was holding it by one end like a giant sword in reverse. From there, I swing it in a wide arc to crack it across the back of his left knee, causing him to cry out and his leg to buckle. I dart behind him to deliver a kick to his other leg before wrenching his arm behind him, making him kneel. Dropping my staff, I go for a chokehold.

"Stand down, Rivus," I request, "Please."

Rivus gasps for air, but continues to fight. I apply as much pressure as I dare to render him unconscious. Of course, that's when everything goes pear-shaped.

One minute I'm on the verge of knocking him out, the next I'm flying across the field with my right arm wrenched out of its socket. I land hard and everything starts spinning. Just as I regain my bearings, a sword is flashing towards my face. A flash of panic runs through me as I roll out of the way.

I stagger to my feet, only to dive backwards to dodge another strike. My arm sent jolts of pain to my head when I landed on it, but I didn't have time to focus on it. Fortunately, my staff was just barely in reach. I grab it just in time to haphazardly block a flurry of blows aimed at rendering me into pieces.

Now, I get the chance to see just what changed.

The foaming at the mouth and the hellish red eyes give it away even without my Force senses. Rivus is drawing heavily on the Force now, fueling an inhuman blood-rage. There is no reasoning with him now.

There is an ominous crack from my staff just before Rivus' sword smashes through it to cut into my chest.

Gah…Uh…Ah…

Gritting my teeth from the pain, I try muster the will the channel energy to my good hand. Just as he goes to stab at me, I send him flying with a burst of telekinetic power before flipping up on my feet. The world blurs as I use the Force to increase my speed and zip over to Rivus' side. The Ysanna warrior is only just recovering his balance when I crack him over the head with the remains of my staff.

He quickly crumples to the ground in a heap. Dropping my weapon, I check his pulse and breathe a sigh of relief when I find it's still strong.

I soon find myself collapsing to the dirt as my injuries and exhaustion set in.

"Medic…" I call weakly. Dead silence is my answer.


	3. Interlude 1

**Interlude**

Well…Shit.

[Day ?: ? ?, 2?]

My legs burn as I run back towards the temple as fast as the Force will allow, fighting the growing feeling of dread in my stomach and trying to keep the rain out of my eyes. A flash of lightning illuminates the outline of the ruins.

I'd been at the Ysanna camp tending to several people injured during a hunting venture, Rivus among them. Despite our still-ongoing feud, I wasn't just going to leave the man in pain, no matter how much of an asshole he was. Just as I finished healing his gored-open stomach, I'd felt a sense of wrongness emanating from the direction of the library ruins. Disturbed, I made my excuses and raced off, staff in hand.

At the main archway, my dread turns to horror. I'm greeted by the brutalized remains of Richard. His head and left foreleg were removed in one swift bloodless strike. The wounds were cauterized. But the killer didn't stop there. His plates were ripped off his body to expose the softer muscle beneath, after which it looked like he was savaged with a bladed weapon.

"At least he didn't go down without a fight," I mutter, noting the blood on the severed limb's claws.

I find Brunhild a minute later. I…I really wish I hadn't. I thought what was done to Richard was sickening. Seeing the state Brunhild was in had me emptying my stomach and wretching afterwards. I can't describe it. I literally can't describe it because I don't know any words that wouldn't understate it. All I can say is that the same weapons were used, before she was torn apart.

At least I haven't found Heracles. Hopefully, he's hiding. God I hope he's hiding.

The sound of clashing lightsabers ahead forces me forward.

My feet take me to the back of the library, where my eyes come upon a strange scene. Master Ood, clutching a yellow-bladed lightsaber in his tentacle-like hand, awkwardly defends himself from a shadowed figure wielding a blue lightsaber. His trunk and branches are littered with cuts and burns. I can tell he's weakening.

I used to the Force to assist my jump and land behind the assailant, but it was too late. Master Ood misses a parry, leaving him wide open. The shadowed figure's lightsaber slashes through his trunk, forcing a wheeze out of the ancient Jedi as half of him topples to the ground. I clutch at my head as the Force _screeches_ in pain, but I still manage to block in time.

Not that it helps me. The lightsaber cuts my staff in two, leaving me with the broken halves of my weapon as I'm sent flying, courtesy of a Force push. I manage to right myself mid-air and land on my feet.

" _Pathetic_ ," the figure hisses. Its voice sounds like it's being fed through a scrambler, making it impossible to tell if it's male or female. I can't pick out any distinctive physical features from it either. The being is like a walking mass of shadows.

I glance down at the remains of my staff before tossing the halves away. They aren't going to do me any good. If I'd learned Master Vodo-Siosk Baas' trick of empowering mundane objects, then sure. Unfortunately, I didn't.

A quick Force pull brings Master Ood's lightsaber to my hand and I take a moment to glance at it. Like in the comics, it looks vaguely organic, like the metal was grown instead of crafted. Other than that, there isn't anything that stands out. A flick of the Force ignites the weapon and I assume the opening stance of Soresu, saber held in my left hand.

The creature tilts its head to one side and I get the sense that it's actually amused. It then cackles and raises its offhand, sending a torrent of blue Force Lightning at me. Bringing my lightsaber across my body, I catch it on the blade with a grunt. I'm _not_ going to try absorbing that until I'm damn sure I can overpower them.

When it stopped, I throw myself forward with another Force-assisted leap and swing down at its head with a two-handed Djem So power attack. As expected, my strike is diverted to the side with a one-handed parry, though now I know my enemy's style. It's confirmed a few seconds later after a few more strikes are deflected in a manner reminiscent of a fencer.

Fuck, I'm fighting a Makashi specialist in a one-on-one duel. Still, Form II has its weaknesses.

I'm forced to backpedal and switch back to my Soresu defense as they regain the momentum. I'm parrying as fast as I can, but I still take a light score to my left shoulder and thigh. They're good, or at least better than me. In a straight fight, this thing is going to kill me.

Good thing I've developed an aversion to fair fights after my duel with Rivus. As I parry the next strike, I spin my body around to deliver a spin-hook kick to their left side, simultaneously channeling a telekinetic blast through my foot.

I'm no master swordsman, but I've started incorporating bits and pieces from several Forms into my style, with Soresu as the base. Some are specific movements while others are the base ideas behind the style. Augmenting my unarmed strikes with Force powers draws from the principles of Niman and Juyo. A traditional duelist like Dooku would have sneered at it, but I like to keep my options open.

My Force blast launches the creature into the air. I sincerely doubt that I did any significant damage, as I felt some serious resistance when I hit. Seems they're reinforcing their body with the Force, making it more durable. Smart.

One of Makashi's main weaknesses is that it needs to have control of the momentum of battle, which it maintains by utilizing quick and precise movements to herd opponents along desired routes. Like Soresu, it uses very little energy, so they can keep going for a long time. If forced to go on the defensive, the style crumbles quickly under power attacks. Stonewalling the offense with a Soresu defense or battering through their parries with Djem So offense are my best options.

I move to charge, but I'm interrupted by another blast of Force Lightning. While I'm dealing with that, the shadow creature retreats to the sublevel access. I bite back a curse as I follow. If they decide to play it smart, I'm gonna have a hell of time fighting them down there, nevermind the ghost.

As I go down the steps, I shiver at the freezing air. Unlike the first time I came down here, it feels…off, somehow. Worse.

I close my eyes and try to immerse myself in the Force to compensate for the diminished light, only to snap them open again when something pushes back against me. My danger sense pings, urging me to dodge right just as a bar of blue stabs through the spot my torso used to occupy, instead only scoring a light hit on my ribs. Just as quickly as it came, the light extinguishes.

Fun. Trakata plus near-complete darkness.

The next time they try, I'm ready. This time, I deflect the blade to the side and throw a punch in the place I assume their head to be. I release another blast as my knuckles connect with something. I can't see them, but I can hear the creature land with a thud.

Their lightsaber switches off and I can barely hear the patter of feet retreating further in. Dammit, they're probably heading for the vault!

With a hint of reluctance, I give chase. The light given off by my weapon provides enough illumination for me to navigate the stairs safely. The deeper I go, the worse the cold is getting.

Upon reaching the bottom level, I can only gulp. Master Ood's warning plays through my head as I stare at the currently open door that's supposed to be protecting the lowest vault. Directly inside is a pedestal, upon which is a very familiar and terror-inducing object. From sight alone, it isn't much, just a small pyramid made of black metal and red crystal.

But in the Force, that Sith Holocron feels like its generating the cold.

The snap-hiss of a lightsaber igniting gives me enough warning to block yet another sneak attack and initiate a saber lock. I can actually see the shadow being, or rather I can tell it apart from the surrounding darkness. We struggle for superiority in dead silence for half a minute before the unexpected happens.

The ghost Miraluka erupts screaming from the chest of the creature before sailing through mine. My breath is stolen from my lungs at the same time that my body goes numb. It's only for a brief moment, but it's enough.

The shadow being dances around behind me and slashes the backs of my legs, causing me to scream as I collapse to the floor. The creature stalks back around in front of me, raises a hand, and summons more lightning. I can't even hear my own screams anymore as all my pain receptors fire at once.

Then, my smoking body is launched into the vault. I hear a crack as I hit the pedestal, and all feeling leaves the lower half of my body. To make things worse, the holocron is knocked off and lands between my now-useless legs.

I look back up into the hallway. The shadow being lets out another cackle and slowly begins to close the heavy vault door. Just before the door closes completely, the darkness recedes, revealing the smirking face of Rivus. His skin is bone white and his eyes…his eyes are a sulfurous yellow-orange.

The door booms shut and the holocron starts to glow.

* * *

[Year 3: June 09, 2020]

I jolt upwards, my ears still ringing with the sounds of screaming. A quick check of my body shows that I'm still intact. A scan of my surroundings reveals that my staff is still leaning against the wall of my little shelter. Finally, a quick check through the Force tells me that Master Ood is alive and unharmed, though I can feel his worry at my sudden distress.

What the _fuck_ was that?!


	4. Act 3

**Act 3: Chapter 1**

 **Destiny's A Hazy Thing.**

[Year 3: June 09, 2020]

After having a dream that lucid and/or relevant, any intelligent person would go to the nearest font on wisdom for advice/clarification. Especially if said font of wisdom was brutally murdered in that dream. They tend to appreciate being warned about stuff like that.

"…and then I woke up," I finish explaining, "You know, back home on Terra, I wouldn't have given this much thought. Might have cussed a bit before going back to sleep. But when I'm in a galaxy where there is proof of an omnipotent cosmic power that has a habit of granting future-sight, I'm a bit more open-minded when I get strange dreams."

 **"Sensing the future in such detail is a rare enough phenomenon among the Jedi that even our own have had doubts that it is possible,"** Master Ood rumbles, **"Master Odan-Urr's visions of the Sith invasion just before the Great Hyperspace War are one such example."**

"And if the events of the vision happen as seen, it'll mean that I've already changed the future just by being here. Same thing if we prevent it," Oh yeah, he's aware of everything about me. Where I come from, the circumstances of my arrival…everything. I told him a few months after my duel with Rivus. That was around the time I felt the training bond forming. If KOTOR II was any indicator, I wouldn't have been able to hide much for very long, not unless I wanted him to be suspicious of me, "But what I don't get is how Rivus was both at the camp and here, or why I was shown that."

That's been bugging me since I woke up. Rivus isn't actually at the Ysanna camp anymore, as he stormed off into the woods after he recovered from our fight. Hyra's been near-inconsolable since. He may have been an ass, but they were…are married. I finally managed to get her up here to talk to Master Ood a few weeks afterwards, so now she's his other student. Giving her something to get her mind off it helped, but I've noticed her looking out towards the woods every now and again.

 **"Some parts of a vision are not always apparent. Oftentimes, ideas are conveyed in metaphors or symbols."**

"So which one was the metaphor? The one in camp or the one that was here?" I ask, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

Master Ood somehow manages to shrug, **"Perhaps both, perhaps neither. Perhaps it was something you overlooked."**

This is why I avoided philosophy classes like the plague.

Now, I'm back to working on the T3 droid. It's been cleaned dozens of times and all the repair work was finished years ago. But it…it just didn't feel like it was time to switch it on. So now, I disassemble and reassemble sections of it with telekinesis as part of my daily meditation. I know every bolt, every circuit, and every motivator of this droid inside and out. The droid's important, but not yet.

"You feel tired."

"I had a nightmare last night. A vision," I reply. I've got the parts of the droid's photoreceptor assembly floating in the air as I slowly piecing it back together, "I've already talked to Master Ood about it. I'm not sure I'm up for another telling. It was…bad, to put it lightly."

Both of us are silent as I finish the exercise and reinstall the part.

I breathe out and open my eyes. Hyra is standing to the left of the droid, watching it curiously. Ever since she'd laid eyes on it, the shaman took every opportunity to poke around at it. To my knowledge, the T3 unit was the single most advanced piece of technology currently on Ossus, thousands of years ahead of the Ysanna's rifles. Until I explained it to her, she thought it was an incredibly detailed statue.

A glance at her eyes tells me that I'm not the only one not getting much sleep lately.

It's been three years now, and she's still watching and waiting. I'd smack some sense into Rivus if I could get my hands on him, if only to stop her heartache. But my attempts to help thus far have backfired magnificently. In her grief, she's started trying to find comfort where she can. I've noticed the signs, but I've been pretending not to. The looks, the lingering touches, the awkward pauses, the constant close proximity…

It's not that I find her unattractive, actually the opposite. It's not just because her husband is still alive, although that's a large factor. It's not some Jedi anti-attachment bullshit. It's not a lot of things. Primarily, it's because I feel guilty.

Because of me, people died that night three years ago. If I hadn't brought my Lyriks there, they'd be alive. Because of me, her husband abandoned her. If I hadn't fought Rivus, her marriage wouldn't be broken.

Because of my presence on this planet, I've _wrecked_ what could have been a perfectly happy life.

I push the thoughts from my mind for the moment with sadly practiced ease, "So, care for a spar? Or did you need something else?"

For a moment, it looks like Hyra is about to say something before she changes her mind, "Of course. I just need to borrow a staff."

* * *

Like me, Hyra had taken a quarterstaff as her primary weapon, though mostly for the reach advantage. She's not exactly tall, standing at about five foot two inches. Rather than the patchwork style I adopted, she chose to specialize in Form VI, Niman, though she's still been instructed in the basics of the other six styles.

Summer on Ossus felt more like late autumn back on Earth. Pleasantly cool, but not freezing. I drop my outer robe to the ground and roll my shoulders before double-checking the knot keeping my hair back. After three years, my hair has grown long enough to hang down below my shoulder blades. I could have cut it, but I'd gotten attached the look. So now I just kept it tied back in a low ponytail with a thin strip of leather that I'd gotten from the Ysanna. The beard, however, was gone as soon as I could arrange it. It was itchy and I couldn't grow enough to make it look good.

Cracking my neck, I settle into the Soresu opening stance and wait. It was an interesting dynamic in our styles. Mine was primarily reactive, while hers was proactive. As expected, Hyra darts forward with a Force-enhanced lunge, going for a thrust. As I parry it to the side, the other end of her staff flashes forward, impacting the middle of mine with a loud boom. The partially-telekinetic strike rips the weapon out of my hands and sends it spinning up into the air.

With a half-smile on my lips, I roll backwards to avoid a swing going for my head. I distract Hyra for a moment by using the Force to throw my robe at her. As she struggles against the garment, I pull my staff back to my hand, "Sneaky sneaky, Hyra. Using my own tricks against me."

The shaman pouts as she tosses the robe away, "I thought it would work this time."

"Oh, it worked just fine," I point out, "It's just that I used the environment against you once I was disarmed. Never step onto a battlefield you haven't prepared."

"Tossing your robe on the ground was preparing your battlefield?" She asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Yep!" I chirp a bit too cheerfully, "Every little bit helps." Actually, that gives me an idea… "Now, are you gonna fight or are you giving up?"

"Oh, do not mistake my disappointment for surrender. I was just trying to distract you," Hyra replies with a toothy grin, "After all, I made some preparations too."

Wait, what?

"Woah!" I hurriedly duck as my training saber comes rocketing out of my shelter. I have to start rolling side to side as it takes a few swipes at me.

Well, this is new. I had no idea she even knew how to do this. At the least, I can say her focus on her Force abilities makes sparring interesting.

I manage to bat it away just in time to deflect Hyra's staff. I dive to the side to avoid being pinched between the two assaults. Despite the additional venue of attack, my Soresu defense is holding up pretty well.

Or at least it was until a pair of stones crashed into my calves, taking my feet out from under me. Before I can react, I'm pinned by my opponent straddling my stomach and her staff pressing down on my shoulders and hands.

I can only blink in surprise for a moment. This is the first time Hyra's outright beaten me in a spar. Even if I managed to get out of the pin, she still managed to knock me down within the first minute of combat. If she had a real lightsaber, I'd be dead now.

"Alright, alright, you win," I concede. I try to push off the ground, but Hyra's not letting me up.

She's got an inscrutable look on her face as she stares at my right hand. I go to say something to snap her out of it, but the words catch in my throat as her hand moves to my arm. Thin, yet calloused, fingers lightly trace the scars that mar my skin, sending a shiver up my spine.

The staff pinning me to the ground is forgotten as her other hand softly pushes aside my tunic as it seeks out the scars on my chest. She freezes for a moment and her hand trembles as she finds the knotted white line that Rivus left on me before moving on to the puncture scars. Her fingers on my skin spark sensations that I've been trying to avoid for so long.

Self-loathing builds up in my gut in response, but I can't bring myself to stop her as her warmth flows into me from her closeness. Her eyes, those beautiful oak-brown eyes, meet my hazel ones just before she starts to lean in until her face is only a few inches away from mine. Just as our lips are about to meet, her eyes flutter shut as consciousness leaves her and her head slumps to the side.

My mind trick has slipped past her mental defenses and taken hold.

I can only sit there for a moment as every bit of self-hate and guilt I have burns through my chest. I'm a coward. A bastard.

I gently roll her off me as I try and fail to banish the feeling of Hyra's fingers on my skin, how her body felt against mine. Mentally screaming every curse I know, I pick her up in a bridal carry and head inside. I try and fail to ignore the way she curls up against my chest. Upon entering the library, I place her against Master Ood's trunk. The pseudo-face looks at me, but says nothing.

He didn't need to. I know he felt the gamut of emotions I ran through from the training bond. No words are spoken, but feelings of support and reassurance flow towards me. I send feelings of gratitude back.

With nothing more needing to be said, I stalk towards the sublevel access. I have a battlefield to prepare. And feelings to sort out.

* * *

 **Act 3: Chapter 2**

Shhh. Don't You Know This Is A Library?

[Year 3: June 09, 2020]

I only bring my flashlight with me this time. My staff will do no good for what I'm about to do. The ghost Miraluka was the main reason I was…incapacitated in the vision. I have no intention of letting that problem go unaddressed. The only issue is on how to be rid of her.

Exar Kun annihilated the spirit of Freedon Nadd by hitting him with raw Darkside energy. That alone was enough to dispose of the former Sith Lord. Theoretically, the opposite should be a viable option. "Should" being the key word there. Exar Kun was stupidly powerful, so it may have been raw power that enabled him to pull it off. The fact that Nadd was on a completely separate planet from his remains might have been another factor.

So yeah, a bunch of theoretical factors and only one trial I can pull off before the error kills me.

Now if only I could find her. Ghost Lady is being surprisingly quiet today. Haven't heard one creepy question since coming down here and the only noise I hear are my boots on stone. And…and…

Why is it warmer down here? Last time I was down here, both in the vision and physically, it was bone-chillingly cold, like someone had dropped an arctic wind into the sublevels. It's still cold, but there is enough of a temperature change for me to notice the difference.

"I've got a bad feeling about this…" I mutter. I said it. I had to say it. Star Wars tradition and all that. Someone had to do it, so I'm getting it out of the way right now.

Now, I've never actually been down to the lowest vault, vision aside. In fact, I've been avoiding this place for the past three years. So when I see footprints in the dust that I'm damn sure aren't mine, I'm understandably going to freak out.

But I'm a Jedi. A Jedi Padawan, but still a Jedi. I restrain myself from screaming out a stream of curses from the feeling of growing dread churning through me. Oddly, there's no sign of a struggle. The ghost left the intruder alone.

Without another word, I follow the footprints. Predictably, they lead to exactly where I was fruitlessly hoping they wouldn't. Now, I'm gaping at the hole where the vault door used to be. The metal edges are deformed, melted. There's only one weapon on this world that can do that.

Just to the left of the doorway is a mummified body dressed in the tattered remains of violet and red robes. The glow of the dormant holocrons provides just enough light that I don't need my flashlight to examine it. Like her ghost, most of its exposed skin is a blackened mess, shriveled up from time. Her position indicates that she just slid down the wall and waited to die. She must have been on one of the first few sublevels when the supernova hit. Protected from being outright vaporized, but not enough to survive for long. She must have thought there might be something in the vault that could have saved her, but when she got here she was too weak to open the door. Hell of a way to die. If her ghost wasn't so damn creepy and violent, I might have felt a bit more sorry for her.

The dust around her body was disturbed and the spot on her belt for her lightsaber is empty. That explains how the intruder got into the vault. Unfortunate that the Jedi couldn't have made it out of cortosis. But then, I guess a thousand years of no Sith made them complacent. Not like that hasn't happened before in canon…

So that's one question answered. I only have one more.

"How long has Rivus had access to a Sith Holocron?" I ask the air as I stare with a rapidly paling face at the empty pedestal in the middle of the chamber.

* * *

After that revelation, I went running straight back to Master Ood. Screw angry Force Adept, we just might have a goddamn budding Sith Lord on our hands. Thankfully, Hyra's still out cold. Explaining this just after our…well, let's not go there.

"Conditions down there prevented me from telling how long ago it was, just that it was after my own trip to the sublevels. Not reassuring, since that gives us a timetable of anywhere between a few days to three years," I grumble. I don't bother asking the obvious question of how he got down there to begin with, because I already know the answer.

I left the damn door open.

The other reason is because Master Ood was probably asleep when the theft happened. When Hyra and I aren't training or talking with him, he goes back into his hibernation. I can't blame him. He is _old._ He was ancient when Ossus fell, not to mention how long it's been since then. He's somewhere between one thousand and five thousand years old. I don't know what the lifespan of a Neti is, but I'm willing to bet that he's at the upper end of it if he hasn't already surpassed it. Whatever's keeping his mind cognizant is weakening, as it's getting harder and harder to wake him up. I don't know how long he has until he just stays asleep.

I shake myself out of my thoughts, "So what can we expect from this holocron? Whose is it?"

 **"That particular holocron was constructed by Lord Tyren Alsek, a Sith Sorcerer and Alchemist of some power,"** Master Ood answers, **"It was seized and brought to Ossus after he was killed at the end of the Great Hyperspace War by a Jedi Knight who recognized it for what it was. Fortunately, even if Rivus was able to open the holocron, then we will not be dealing with the more powerful Sith magics and rituals. They take more time to learn than he has had."**

On the outside, I nod in understanding. On the inside behind layers of mental walls, I'm screaming my head off at the impossibility of it all. I definitely recognize the name and the fact that the universe is apparently holding a _serious_ grudge! Tyren Alsek was a character I created for a tabletop game back on Earth. He's supposed to be a renegade Sith apprentice during the Great Galactic War period (aka SWTOR), but here he was about thirteen hundred years off-target. If he's anything like I made him to be, then a physical death wouldn't be enough to stop him, "If the vision was any indicator, Rivus' going to make his move soon, no matter what he's learned. We need to find him before he's ready."

Further discussion is halted by a groan from Hyra. As she's waking up, I glance at Master Ood, only to find his wooden face staring back.

Dammit.

The shaman's eyes meet mine before flinching and looking away. I can feel her shame in the Force.

Double dammit. I sigh, "Hyra, we need to talk."

I lead Hyra away from Master Ood and back to where…it happened. He'll still be aware of everything, but having your Master looming over your shoulder when you're trying to have a very personal conversation is distracting.

Now seated under a tree that isn't Master Ood, neither of us speaks for a while. I'm still trying to figure out what to say, and her…well, I'm not going to pry.

For a few minutes, we just watch the Trio relaxing in the sun. Heracles is about the same size as his mother now, but he's still growing. Richard and Brunhild look as strong and tough as they ever did. I clench my jaw as I forcibly suppress the image of their brutalized remains. Not helping ease my mind. Fine, no more putting this off.

"I did notice, you know. Before today," I finally say. I don't need to look to know she just flinched again. Great way to start a conversation, Isaac, "I just…I didn't want to acknowledge it," I stop right there and backtrack real fast, "N-not that you're undesirable! Er, quite the opposite…But it didn't feel right."

"Because of Rivus?" Hyra replies. Her knees are pulled up to her chest and her face buried in her arms, muffling her voice.

"Yes. Uh, not just because of him. Just partially," I'm stumbling over my words. Nice. This is getting derailed fast, "Divorce…er, separation of bondmates isn't rare for my people. I wouldn't have minded had you actually moved on," Fuck, "But you haven't, despite him abandoning you and the Ysanna," Dammit, "Acting on that would have been a disservice to you. And to Rivus, even with how much of a bastard he's been," Master of Foot-In-Mouth Fu right there, "I should have said something long ago, instead of trying to pretend I wasn't seeing it. I'm sorry, Hyra." Nailed it.

My friend lifts her head slightly, so her slightly reddened eyes are peeking up over her arms. Those eyes just watch me for a minute, "That is not all, is it?"

"No," I admit, "I also feel responsible for the series of events that led to this point."

"Responsibility should not lie with you," An eyebrow rises, "Unless you are claiming to have known all the paths of fate at the time and deliberately chose that one? Misunderstandings were made that night. The blame lies with none."

I open my mouth to retort, but the words don't come. My teeth come back together with a click. She's right, and I'm being an idiot again. Assuming all the burdens of the world can be the path of altruism, but also of arrogance. I suppose I needed a kick in the ass to remember that.

I snort, "I thought I was supposed to be helping _you_ here. All the same, I'll take your words into consideration. But the other factors remain."

"...I know," Hyra replies quietly, "After he left, everything hurt. I just wanted it to stop. I tried immersing myself in the Jedi training, the teachings. It has helped, but not as much as I would have hoped. I tried to let go, but I failed. I thought of covering the pain with companionship. With you," She gives a bitter chuckle, "We have both seen how that turned out."

"I'm sorry," I repeat. There's more I can say, but should I?...Screw it. I'm already at the core, might as well dig to China, "We both know he's still out there," I pause, seeing her nod, "You've been training with Master Ood and I long enough to know what he's becoming, stewing in his anger. We both know he's going to come for me. I don't want to hurt him, but he may not give me the option."

"Unless he has changed significantly, he definitely will not give you the option. He is and always has been unyielding," She smiles, likely remembering fonder times. The expression fades quickly, switching to a determined one, "When he comes, make certain I am with you. I want to try to bring him back. If I fail, then I will help you stop him, for he will no longer be the man I knew. I will have my closure. One way or the other."

I look at her face for a moment, "There is a Mandalorian saying: "Teach your sons to be strong. Teach your daughters to be stronger." Your father did a hell of a job with you, didn't he?"

We both fall silent again. Heracles has decided that it's time to be friendly, so he bounds over, nearly bowling both of us over in the process. I suddenly lose the hope of using of my legs as his half-ton bulk sits down, though he manages not to crush my legs. Any attempts to shove him off would be futile.

"No matter what planet I'm on, cats are still assholes," I mutter as I try and make myself as comfortable as possible.

Hyra snorts a laugh before reaching over to scratch under the left side of Heracles' jaw, causing his chainsaw-like purring to start. I squawk and squirm a bit as the vibrations go into my legs.

The minutes tick by as the Kyrik bothers us for attention, with my heatless grumbling as I try to prod the feline tank off me.

I smile, looking between Heracles and Hyra, "We've have come a long way from trying to kill each other, haven't we? I remember when you were terrified of them. Now you treat them like pets."

"Aye," Her other hand reaches down to touch the mask on her belt. It still has the scratches Heracles made on it, years ago. Hyra's face crinkles in amusement, "Though I seem to recall that your attempt involved a copious amount of stumbling."

"Hey!" I bark with mock-indignation, "I had a bullet in my leg. Stumbling was the best I could do. Besides, which one of us couldn't hold off a little kitty-cat again?"

Rather than answering, she just let out a loud belly laugh. And the world seemed just a little bit brighter.

* * *

 **Act 3: Chapter 3**

Flinging A Light Into The Future

[Year 3: June 17, 2020]

Finding Rivus is easier said than done.

Ossus exudes an extremely strong Force presence, hence why the Jedi built a temple here to begin with. Thing is, that presence makes locating an individual through the Force difficult. Unless they are close by or immensely powerful, the background "noise" covers them up completely. Fortunately and not so fortunately, Rivus is neither. I can sense the Ysanna camp because the presence of that many Force users in one spot is "louder" than the background.

On any other planet in the galaxy, barring Korriban or Tython, we'd be able to pinpoint him within a day or two while in a cooperative Force trance. Instead, Master Ood, Hyra, and I have been stuck in meditation for a week and a half as we scan the planet bit by bit, with breaks for bodily necessities. We don't know just how much of a lead Rivus has on us. For all we know, he could be at one of the poles. The only reason that we haven't just labeled it outright impossible is due to Master Ood's direct connection to the Living Force of the planet.

I'm not exaggerating when I say that he is the closest thing to omniscient on this planet. He can sense every living thing on Ossus, from every tree to every animal. However, he isn't physically capable of processing that much information. So unless he concentrates on a specific area, all he senses are indistinct blobs of life energy. Hyra and I are helping him to bear the load, like hooking up additional hard drives to a computer. Even with our help, it's slow going.

To further complicate matters, we can't just track the holocron since it's not actually alive. While Sith artifacts passively project a feeling of the Dark Side, it's only capable of being felt when in close proximity to it.

I sigh and massage my temples in an attempt to ward off the oncoming headache.

This is one of those times that I'm kind of jealous of Master Ood. He's physically incapable of getting headaches. Hell, I'm pretty sure he doesn't actually have internal organs. Now that I think about it, how does he function as a sapient being? I mean, he a giant, formerly mobile tree. Wood doesn't conduct electricity, so he can't possibly have a functioning nervous system. He doesn't eat, but photosynthesis shouldn't be able to provide enough energy to power a "brain" capable of abstract thought and tool use. Maybe it's the Force? I've never heard of a Neti that wasn't Force Sensitive…

Huh. Neti might actually be trees that happened to be Force Sensitive, rather than a product of some convoluted evolutionary process that would make a biologist cry. That kind of explains why there are only two Neti in all of Legends canon.

And apparently I managed to drift off again as Hyra's staring at me and expecting an answer to something I wasn't paying attention to.

"Sorry, could you repeat that?" I ask sheepishly.

"I asked if you needed a rest, but that question seems to have answered itself judging by your reaction," She replies with a cocked eyebrow, "Go ahead and take a break. I can stay in the trance for a while longer."

Rubbing my eyes, I can only nod in reply. This work is exhausting and it's not the first time today I've needed a nap.

* * *

I've only had my eyes closed for a few minutes, so I know that its abnormal for me to be dreaming already.

The world around me is dark, yet I can see myself with perfect clarity. Slowly, a yellow-bricked path starts to form under my feet. I'd make a Dorothy joke, but there's no one around to hear it. With nowhere else to go, I have to follow it.

For a while, it's nothing but me and the darkness. My boots don't make a sound on the bricks as I walk. I try to hum "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz," but I quickly find that everything has been silenced.

Eventually, the path splits, one to the left and one to the right.

 _ **Choices, choices**_ **,** My own voice echoes out of the dark in a sing-song manner. Huh, is that what I sound like? Didn't think my voice was that deep, _**Go ahead and get a feel for each.**_

Curious, I hold out a hand towards the left path. I feel grief, but also certainty.

 _ **Rivus dies by your hand or hers, having judged him beyond saving. Hyra grieves, but his threat is over and she will move on. The Ysanna are safe from his corruption and grateful to you personally. You leave Ossus with lessons of the benefits of swift justice fresh in your mind.**_

Yanking my hand back, I'm almost afraid to check the other one. But I do it anyway. The other path lacks the certainty of the first, and pain radiates from it.

 _ **You show Rivus mercy despite your misgivings, though a sacrifice is required. The darkness is purged from him, but he risks falling back to it for the rest of his days. The lessons of the Holocron are not so easily forgotten, nor can it be done alone.**_

Before I can choose, each path splits off into two more. Those paths split into twenty. Two thousand. Twenty thousand and so on down the line. I can see several of them intersect and weave around each other, though I'm aware that there are more unseen.

 _ **So many choices. Every being makes them, large or small, and lives with the consequences over the course of their life. But you? You know more than most. You are aware of just how dangerous your choices in particular can be in this galaxy,**_ I can almost hear the grin in my own voice. If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was me, _**I look forward to seeing where you end up, little Jedi.**_

The bricks beneath my feet suddenly disappear from under me, sending me tumbling into the abyss below.

The last thing I remember were a pair of fiery red eyes and a Cheshire Cat smile.

* * *

I jolt awake to find that, no, I'm not falling. Instead, I find myself on my makeshift bed, right where I fell asleep.

I grab my staff before walking outside, though it's supporting me mentally more than physically at the moment. It's a bit darker than it was earlier. A quick glance at the eastern sky reveals an oncoming storm.

I'd say that "I hope that's not an omen," but I know my luck by now. That, and I don't feel like tempting Fate if it isn't.

Upon returning to Hyra and Master Ood, I find that both are meditating, but not in a trance. I raise an eyebrow as Hyra looks my way.

"So, did you finally get tired Master?" I ask. Unlike us puny fleshbags, the Neti Master was in that trance for the whole week and a half since we started. No breaks, no complaints. Nothing.

"We found him," Hyra answers in his place.

I glance at the approaching clouds, "Let me guess. He's east of us." Sometimes I wonder if a planet can possess a sense of drama. It would explain so much about my time here.

The shaman sighs and nods, "Master Ood and I estimate that he is approximately fifty kilometers away."

My brain does a quick reboot at the mention of kilometers. I'm used to Imperial measurements and I forgot they used metric in Star Wars. I do a quick conversion. It's not an exact number due to a lack of a calculator. So…about thirty miles, give or take.

"If we ran the whole way, that's about two hours or so," I muse, "Half that if we ride."

 **"Hold a moment, before you go,"** Master Ood rumbles.

Hyra and I turn to look. The entirety of the Neti's body stirs, moving earth that had remained undisturbed for centuries. His tentacle-like roots search and grasp at something underneath of his great bulk. The realization takes a moment to hit, but when it does I've got a big grin on my face.

Master Ood finishes his searching and two of his appendages reach out towards us, while a third travels up to his branches. Grasped in his roots are a very familiar set of cylinders. I reach out and take hold of one gingerly.

 **"I had hoped to gift one to each of you following your Trials, but circumstance has forced my hand. You will need them to combat Rivus on even ground."**

My eyes rove over the device, taking in every detail. I know this weapon. The simplistic organic look of the metal, the heft…This is the lightsaber I used in my vision.

Unlike the vision, I have time now to examine it and feel every sensation. The silver-grey metal of the casing is tarnished from age and cool to the touch. Scraping away stubborn clumps of dirt reveal patches of rust. The grip is worn from use. Its creator only had three fingers to my four.

Focusing on the weapon, I send my senses racing through every nook and cranny, to know every part. The wires are corroding, the battery is fading, the lens cracked. And finally, I come to the crystal itself, where I learned a sad fact.

Even crystals can die.

This lightsaber is old, ancient even by Master Ood's lofty standards. But there is still life in it. When I read Star Wars stories back home, I never really understood the purpose behind seeking out natural crystals when making synthetic ones would be more practical. But I think I get it, at least a little. These crystals aren't sentient, but they are aware enough to have a "personality."

The crystal reminds me of my grandfather, an old soldier that saw too much. Despite that, it still remembers its duty. I don't think it would ever have been able to attune itself to me properly, as I'm not the one who found it. But it accepts my purpose and is willing to use the last of its strength for one final battle. The crystal is as much a Jedi as I am, and it wants to die as one instead of wasting away in a hole in the ground.

Taking the hilt in both hands, I hold it parallel to my body. A flick of the Force illuminates the darkening courtyard with a golden light, swiftly followed by green and blue **.**

* * *

 **Act 3: Chapter 4**

On A Dark And Stormy Night…

[Year 3: June 17, 2020]

Rain falls from the sky and thunder cracks around us as we ride east. The storm hit midway through our journey, drenching us almost immediately. We're getting close. I can feel the Holocron nearby.

As a consequence, it's getting colder. I try to use the Force to heat up my body and ward off another wave of arctic wind, but it's only effective at stopping another shiver.

Our light is completely gone, leaving both Hyra and I blind. Richard and Brunhild are the only reason we are not horrendously off course. They know where we need to go and their senses are not nearly as limited by the dark. A flash of lightning illuminates the world for a brief moment, revealing the natural walls on all sides of us.

We managed to track Rivus to a valley deep in the mountains. There are a lot of natural caves here and he could be in any one of them, but we have a lock on him. I've been keeping our mounts on course by feeding them his general direction through our bonds while they handle the terrain.

I can't help but feel a sense of unease. It might just be because of the storm, but we haven't encountered any wildlife since entering the valley. For our sake, I hope they were just chased off.

A growl is the only warning I get before something slams into Richard's flank. I tumble off his back and ignite my saber, lighting up a small area around me.

The attacker is a Kyrik, but there's something extremely wrong with it. Its plates and hide are pitch black, rather than the normal tan, and it easily stands a head taller than Richard. Its skin, what little is exposed, is torn to reveal the bulging muscles underneath, indicating unnaturally rapid growth. The monster's mouth is a mess of oversized fangs, each gleaming with a greenish sheen.

Worse, I can't feel it at all. It, or something else, is hiding its presence in the Force.

It's wresting with Richard at the moment, so I use its distraction to try and land a killing blow. Instead of lopping off its head like I intended, the blade only burned a furrow in the creature's neck plate. In my shock, I only barely get the lightsaber between my squishy torso and the retaliatory claw swipe. Again, it only leaves a burn on its armored hide. The force behind the blow is still enough to knock me off my feet.

Thankfully, my attack was enough of a diversion for Richard to gain the advantage. In a flurry of movement, he manages to pin the monster long enough to tear out its unprotected throat.

As its blood pools beneath its writhing form, whatever was hiding it breaks, allowing me to feel in excruciating detail how much agony it's in. I wretch from the sensations washing over me, but I'm able to keep from emptying my stomach. There's barely anything left of its mind, having gone mad a long time ago from the pain. Killing these abominations would be a mercy.

Through its maddened haze, I can feel a glimmer of hope. I almost break down then and there as I get a reminder of just how intelligent Kyriks are. It may not be able to speak or understand abstract concepts, but it's smart enough to realize what happened to it. It's smart enough to want it to stop, but unable to do so on its own.

It's getting weaker, but still alive. Kyriks are tough, and though the neck wound is fatal, it's not enough to kill it instantly. Letting it slowly bleed out would be cruel and unnecessary.

I approach it and place the tip of my lightsaber just under its jaw, causing the great beast to freeze. I think it understands, as I feel the sensation of hope intensify, pushing past the madness and anger. Gratitude is the last thing it feels before the blade spears through its brain.

Removing my weapon, I feel fury flood through me.

I hate pain. I _hate_ feeling it. I **hate** causing it. I _**hate** _ being around it.

That beast was filled with more pain than I've ever experienced in my entire life put together. No being deserves that kind of pain, no matter what they've done. Psychopaths, criminals, Dark Lords. No one.

I respect a single concept above all else in the world, in mine or in this one: Choice. Rivus removed the Kyrik's choice by enslaving it to his will, torturing it and preventing it from ending its own pain. I'm not naïve enough to think that this is the only one.

I've gone my entire life without seriously injuring anything before coming here. I avoided fights. I couldn't go hunting without feeling bad. I trained to fight, not so that I'd use it, but so that I'd know how.

Right now? I've never wanted to hurt something so badly in my life.

The shuffle of feet and a green light snap me out of my stupor. I take a deep breath, slowly easing the anger out of my system. I've never let my rage control me before. I'm not going to start now.

Rivus will be dealt with, but I'm not going to let myself become something worse in the process.

I turn to face Hyra and Brunhild once I'm certain I'm back in control. I scan the two for injuries as I doubt I was the only one ambushed. Hyra's favoring her left leg, where a bit of her clothing is torn along her calf. Brunhild only has some light scratches on her stomach plating.

The shaman has tears running down her face. She must have felt what I did when she ended her opponent's suffering. Her lightsaber disengages as she stumbles forward into my chest and I wrap an arm around her shoulders.

Neither of us says a word as the rain pours down around us.

When Hyra calms down somewhat, she backs off to examine the dead beast. With a bit of queasiness in her expression, she asks quietly, "What did he do to them?"

"Sith Alchemy. Rivus mutated them, altered them with the Dark Side. Judging by the skin tears, he accelerated and augmented their growth," I reply, trying to keep as much emotion out of my voice as possible. I point to the burns on its neck plate and leg, "He also made their plates lightsaber resistant, though I suspect concentrated effort will get through," I glance at the cooling hole in its jaw, "Their hide, not so much."

I try to ignore the horrified look on her face as I give the analytical explanation. Rivus must have been a much different man once, with the changes so subtle that even those who knew him best are only just now realizing it.

I expend a bit of energy to heal up Hyra's leg before we move on.

* * *

Our search takes us to a cave set into the northern wall of the valley. We haven't encountered any more Sith alchemical beasts, but we can't detect them either. There might not be any more, since Sith Abominations scare away wildlife just with their unnatural presences. Still, I can't discount the possibility that Rivus is just keeping them in reserve to swarm us.

Dismounting, Hyra and I ignite our lightsabers and venture inside, Richard and Brunhild on our heels.

The cave leads down into a narrow tunnel. The flashes of lightning from outside can't make it down here, so we have to light our way with our weapons. I have to send my Kyriks away since they barely fit down here. If there's a fight, they'd be helpless.

Soon enough, the tunnel leads into a wider cavern, awash in a red glow. In the middle of the chamber is a bald, pale-skinned figure, kneeling in front of the Sith Holocron. The air in here is freezing, worse than outside.

"Finally," the figure hisses as it stirs from meditation, "But also sooner than I would have preferred."

As it stands up and turns around, I grimace. Like in the vision, Rivus is as white as a corpse and his eyes are a burning yellow-orange. But without the shadows, I see more. Stripped to the waist, the fallen Ysanna's torso and arms are adorned with glowing red runes. I'm no linguist, but I'm assuming those are from the Ancient Sith language. Crazy he may be, but stuff like that isn't done without reason. Crap.

"So betrayal is followed by more betrayal, is it?" Rivus sneers, his gaze firmly locked on Hyra. His attention shifts away and his voice lowers to a mutter, _"First I lose Kyrus to HIM. Now I lose her to HIM. Yes yes…Come to take more, have you? I won't let you…"_

"There was never a betrayal, Rivus," I reply, though I sincerely doubt that my words will mean anything to him, "It's time to return home. Your people miss you."

"LIAR!" He roars, "We are all traitors! You, Hyra, the Ysanna, ME! We are ALL traitors to our true purpose, but I and I alone have been shown the way."

The runes on his skin brighten in response to his growing anger and the scent of burning flesh colors the air. With a half-suppressed gag, I realize that those runes are literally burning into him. Good god, how long has he had those and why did he put them on himself?

"Rivus, what have you done to yourself?" Hyra whispers, her voice carrying in the empty space.

"I have become something more, my dear traitorous Hyra. Something better," The darksider pauses, before giving a downright unsettling grin, "Perhaps…Perhaps you might become better too. I could forgive you then," His eyes snap to me, "But NOT you!...Never you…Nonono, you have to die…But Hyra can be saved from Jedi corruption and the blinding Light. All of them can. They just need to be shown the way…"

This…this can't be a result of pure anger. My first instinct is to say that the Holocron broke him, twisted him, but Tyren was never the type to be interested in that. Oh sure, he'd do nasty things to his enemies and even corrupt Jedi, but he valued his sanity too much to ever go ax-crazy himself or induce it in others. He preferred competent and controllable subordinates, after all. If Rivus was this unstable at the start, Tyren would have just refused to teach him.

Further thought on the matter is brought to a halt by an igniting lightsaber. It seems the time for talk is over.

"But first, you need to die, Jedi," The smile on his face showed _way_ too many teeth to be healthy.

With a howl, Rivus leaps towards me in a lunge, runes blazing. I parry the strike to the side with a frown. Something's not right here. Er…Something _else_ isn't right here.

A flurry of strikes is launched my way, but I parry or dodge them all. He's using Makashi, but it's clumsy. Unrefined. Above all, it's not the smooth fighting style I faced in my vision. He's a power duelist trying and failing to use a precision style.

Hyra joins in the fight after getting over her split-second shock and makes a diagonal slice at Rivus' back. He doesn't even look as he blocks it. Can't disparage his defense too much, then.

Rather than let himself get pinned between us, Rivus roars before unleashing a wave of telekinetic power all around him. Thankfully, he's not strong enough to do more than send Hyra and I tumbling back on our asses. It doesn't really do much to hinder either of us as we're both back on our feet when we stop rolling, but it gives him breathing room. I move to re-engage, but a bolt of lightning stops me in my tracks. I hastily get my lightsaber up to absorb it.

"Your style's crap, Rivus. What, did you make it up on the spot?" Because I know damn well that Tyren didn't teach it to him. He hated resorting to his lightsaber and only learned how not to hit himself with it.

"HE mocks us. The voice may have stopped, but it is not the only voice..." I can barely hear the Dark Jedi mutter.

Thank God Rivus went the ax-crazy route and wasn't in control enough to keep his mouth shut. So that means that Tyren stopped teaching him at some point. Who's the other voice then? I want to thank them for being a shit teacher.

With a nod, Hyra and I simultaneously leap back in. I lead with a two-handed Djem So overhead strike while she goes with a Niman leg sweep. Unfortunately, I'm not giving the man enough credit. My attack is outright blocked, leaving me with the feeling that I just hit a brick wall. Hyra's attack doesn't even get started as Rivus brings a leg up into her ribs. I think I heard something break as she's sent flying.

I don't have time to check as Rivus bears down on me. Rather than the feeble attempt at Makashi he was using earlier, he's moving back to the style I faced in our first duel. I try to parry his overhead attack, but he simply powers through it. The force behind the strike drives me to my knees, though I still stopped him from hitting me. Good _fucking_ God he's strong!

I'd like to think I've gotten stronger over the past three years. I'm no Arnold Schwarzenegger, but I've built up muscle. His strength? Goddamn superhuman!

I gag as the stench around him intensifies and I can feel the heat from the runes as he bears down on me. From our saber lock, I can see his face in a lot more detail than I ever wanted. His corpse-white skin is marred by bulging veins, blackened by extensive uncontrolled dark side use. I'd comment on his teeth, but I don't want to describe the results of the Ysanna's lack of dental hygiene.

Seeing me still alive and defending myself provokes something in him, as his eyes shift to the same blood red as the runes. With a roar, Rivus starts hammering away at me with no semblance of technique, just bloody-minded fury. I try to get behind him and away from the flurry, but he follows my movements. I can't move away from him, so I block as best as I can.

Like an idiot.

"DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE!" He screams as he batters away at my crumbling defense, foaming at the mouth. The runes are searing at this point and they're actually starting to burn me.

His muscles visibly bunch up as he swings one last time, hitting me with enough force to propel me into the cavern wall. The world spins as my head collides with stone. I try to shake away the disorientation and prepare my defense, only to find my lightsaber slipped out of my hand mid-flight.

Rivus is already charging. I don't have time to get my weapon back. So I do the only thing I can.

Trust in the Force.

A sense of calm pierces through the haze as I concentrate, thrusting both hands forward. I can feel the heat from his saber and the runes for a brief second before my Force push launches Rivus out of the room, into the entrance tunnel. It's only a stop-gap measure, but it's given me enough time to pull my own lightsaber back to me. He's not hurt, just disoriented from his impromptu flight, and he's back on his feet in short order. I'm ready this time, though.

A shimmering transparent barrier appears in the entrance way, separating us. Glowing runes light up on the stone around its edges.

Well, I wasn't ready for _that_.

Neither was Rivus, judging by how he's wailing on it. His lightsaber is just bouncing off it like it's an inflatable mallet. A minute ticks by as he exhausts his berserker rage on the obstacle, until at last I can see the red bleed out of his eyes, returning them to a yellow-orange. With a snarl, he glares at something behind me before running off.

The crimson glow of the room intensifies.

"Finally. It is time we spoke, Jedi."

* * *

 **Act 3: Chapter 5**

Better The Devil You Know

[Year 3: June 17, 2020]

I freeze for a second before turning around. The Holocron was active and no one had touched the damn thing.

 _The Sith Holocron had activated itself._

The metal parts of the pyramid are orbiting the crystal core, which is floating about four feet in the air. I squint as the core pulses and releases a flash of bright light. When it dies down, Hyra and I aren't alone in the room anymore.

Lord Tyren was never intended to be an imposing figure. Creepy, yes, but not physically threatening. A human of average height, he has a slight build and has an imperious air around him. He has a short goatee and his hair is worn long, though it's not pulled back like mine. Rather than the indistinct dark robes that he favored when he was just one of my characters, he's dressed in a robe/kilt combination more appropriate for the Great Hyperspace War era, with greaves on his legs and bracers on his arms. If his garb was a different color, I can't tell because his image is being projected in red. Even with that, he still shows signs of heavy dark side degradation. Though, I am mildly disappointed that he doesn't have an English accent.

"I am Tyren Alsek, Lord Alchemist of Ziost," The image pauses and shrugs, "Or at least an imprint of his memories. And you, Jedi, are the first sane company that I have had in -Cross-referencing internal chronometer with archives- three thousand, nine hundred, twenty-eight years, six months, and fourteen days, by the galactic standard calendar. May I know my...visitor's name?"

Huh. I've been here for three years but this is the first time I've been able to get a ballpark figure of _when_ I ended up. Judging by that number, I'm somewhere between the War of Light and Darkness and the Clone Wars. Add on the fact that the Ossus Library had access to this holocron for a thousand years before it fell, where Master Odan-Urr or Master Ood could have opened it at any point in ten centuries. That's still a one thousand-year period, but it cut the timespan down by about three-fourths.

"Isaac. That sounds…incredibly boring," I reply slowly. Even though I know Tyren, interacting with a Sith Holocron is not something done lightly, "Were you aware that whole time?" I ask as I inch towards Hyra. She's not conscious, but I'm kind of grateful that she's not awake for this.

"Yes," Tyren grimaces, "And you have no idea. It was shameful for my vessel to be seized by the Jedi in the first place, but at least your Masters were willing to engage in intelligent discussion every now and then," His face shifts to a scowl, "Then the library was destroyed and I was left alone. Four thousand years in a dusty vault and the first sentient to find me was half-mad. I taught him some minor magics to shut him up."

"And when that didn't work, you ignored him," I'm almost afraid to ask what Tyren considers "minor Sith magics." I scan Hyra, searching for breaks from Rivus' kick. I grimace when I sense two broken ribs on her right side. I can't completely fix broken bones, but I can set them back into place to start their natural healing.

"Oh no, it worked to perfection," the Sith Lord smiles, "I only needed to play on his paranoia, and he did as I required for the relatively small price of tolerating his presence," His grin gains a vindictive edge, "Snubbing him afterwards was merely entertainment on my part."

Realization hit immediately. I stop my healing for a second and glance at the entry way, "You tricked him into placing the runes. But how did you activate them? I thought holocrons were just information storage devices."

"Usually, you would be correct," Tyren nods, "Ahhh…pardon me a moment to bask in the feeling of having a proper conversation once more with an intelligent and _sane_ being. In my current state, it is one of the only joys I have left to me. That _thing_ ," He spits, "was a poor substitute."

The projection closes its eyes and gives a content sigh. I use that time to complete the check up on Hyra. She'll be out cold for a little while longer, but she's no longer in any danger of getting a punctured lung.

"Anyways, as I said, you would usually be correct. Holocrons are traditionally simple information storage devices. However, they are partially Force-based constructs. My creator merely took it a step further by enhancing my construction with Alchemy and Sith Magics. He was rather particular about who he let access his knowledge, and so bestowed me with a rudimentary intelligence to judge supplicants and the means to defend my knowledge should I find them lacking."

"Rudimentary?" I ask incredulously with a raised eyebrow, "If you're a 'rudimentary intelligence,' then I have to question the galactic standards of droid construction."

"Remember, I have had a great deal of time to improve and refine my programming," Tyren points out, before turning thoughtful, "Though I would venture to say that I have advanced to the point where I may have deviated from my creator's baseline personality. There was not a precedent for my construction, so he could not predict any results."

Food for thought for later. I move on to the next worrying point, "So about that defending your knowledge bit?"

The sorcerer laughs, "You need not worry about lightning firing from my housing. My defenses were limited to minor Force use. I believe the phrase my creator used was 'If you are outwitted by a box, then you _deserve_ what happens to you.'"

I can't help it. I laugh right along with him. That right there is quintessential Tyren Alsek snark. I gave him a sense of humor and practicality so that he wasn't just a walking stereotype. And now, I'm seeing that play out in front of me.

He sobers up quickly, though, "As much as I am enjoying our discussion of my origins, that is not the reason I spent years setting up this meeting. I wish to aid you in eliminating that…beast."

Alright, I'm right back to wary. Common sense dictates that you be extremely cautious when the Sith Holocron is offering to help, "How?"

"Information. What he trained in, his mindset, and so on. Knowing these things is the key to victory over him," He replies, "That…display a few minutes ago was the result of you underestimating your opponent."

"And what is the price for this information?" I ask carefully.

Tyren smiles again. It's not a friendly thing, "If it soothes your worries, consider it recompense for indulging an old Sith's thirst for conversation. Now, are you willing to listen?"

I look at the entry way and back at the holocron projection, "I get the feeling that I'm not getting out of here anytime soon until I do."

The smile widens, "Indeed. I find that potential starvation is an excellent motivator, particularly since I do not require sustenance anymore. I suggest that you make yourself comfortable."

In my excitement to meet one of my characters brought to life, I forgot a very, very important detail: Tyren is DARK. Very DARK. Emphasis on the capital letters. He's charming and intelligent, but also the closest I've come to playing a truly evil character. Just because he was willing to work with the Republic at one point, it did not make him a good guy. I thought I was cautious going after him and Rivus.

I wasn't cautious enough.

I settle down against the wall next to Hyra.

"Excellent. Now, we will start with his mental state. When the brute found me, his mind was a wreck. All the emotions that make a wonderful tool were in abundance, but the ones that allow one to truly enjoy life were suppressed. All except one," Tyren pauses, likely considering how to word the next part, "Joy was threaded into his anger. His rage at you fed his pleasure centers and sparked his adrenal glands, which angered him further still, creating a feedback loop and the source of his instability. I suspect actually killing you would give him an endless rush similar to a narcotic high. It makes him fodder at best, as the rush would overload his mind relatively quickly. That he has lasted on this long is rather fascinating. I would have been interested in studying him in depth if he did not disgust me so."

"That…doesn't sound natural. And not something he'd be able to do to himself. But if his mind was tampered with, who did it?" I ponder out loud, "None of the Ysanna have the training or power to pull it off. My Master and Hyra could probably do it, but it'd go against their respective morals. I sure as hell didn't do it…"

"Yes, that does shorten the list, does it not?" Shut up Tyren. I don't need smartassery while I'm thinking.

Hold up. This stinks of the Makashi mindset. Instead of brute forcing the change, they prodded Rivus into progressively darker thinking by limiting his options and slowly excising his positive traits. Hyra said that she didn't notice the changes in him until the month before my duel with him, where it progressively got worse over time.

This version of Tyren doesn't know Makashi, since he's from before the Sith started using lightsabers, not to mention his disdain for melee combat. In that case, the saboteur also trained Rivus in lightsaber dueling. Poorly, but still.

There are only three lightsaber duelists trained in the classical forms on this rock. Me, Master Ood, and Hyra. Hyra wasn't training with us before Rivus left. Master Ood never met him. And I only ever fought him. Wait, there aren't just three…

Oh, you've gotta be _shitting_ me!

* * *

 **Act 3: Chapter 6**

The Chase Is On

[Year 3: June 17, 2020]

I left that cave an hour later with more doubts than I went in with. Hyra hadn't awoken yet, so I secured her to Richard's back as well as I could before sending them both back to Master Ood. I know I need to stop Rivus before he does more damage, but how far am I willing to go to do it?

Am I capable of killing him if necessary? The man my parents raised wants to say "no." The man who touches the Force says "yes." I ended that Kyrik's suffering because there were no other alternatives. There was no reversing what had been done. But will it be necessary?

Can Rivus truly be held accountable for his actions? He wasn't of sound mind. His decisions were made under the effects of what amounts to an artificially generated mental disorder. There are laws that would say that he is not accountable because he was not in control of himself. The feedback loop mentioned by Tyren caused him to become increasingly unstable.

The man I am right now says "I don't know" to all of the above.

I shiver in the freezing air and I feel Brunhild do the same beneath me. Contrary to the aura it puts out, the Holocron is a warm spot in one of the pockets of my robe. I'd have left it in the cave if I could, but I didn't want to risk another Ysanna stumbling on it years down the line. In the meantime, I have to keep it close and endure its ambient effects until I can put it back in the vault.

While I haven't decided what to do about Rivus, I am damn certain about one thing: I'm going to find that fucking ghost and put her down permanently. I may not have been able to do anything about my initial meeting with the Ysanna, but that apparition is definitely my fault. I let her have free reign for three years, all because I was convinced that she couldn't leave the sublevels. My own example of Freedon Nadd should have been a big clue. Force ghosts aren't always bound to their remains.

Night's fallen and the storm's getting worse.

Sight is long gone with no hope of return. Each lightning strike blinds me for an instant, leaving spots in my eyes. Brunhild's stride doesn't falter. She knows where to go.

An hour later, we skid to a stop on the outskirts of the Ysanna camp. I can already hear the sounds of battle. The screams of the wounded and dying are drowned out by the roars of the damned. So many emotions are polluting the air that it's getting difficult to think.

No guards stop us as we make our way to the fight. All of their attention is elsewhere. I reach down to draw my saber, but I stop as I touch the metal. The crystal is dying. It has one more fight left in it before it goes. I need to save it for Rivus.

But I have more ways to fight than just my lightsaber, though I was hoping that I'd never have to use it.

Sliding off of Brunhild's back, I settle myself on the ground, trusting my friend to guard me. I close my eyes and slow my breathing. I can feel my heartbeat slow to a crawl, as my body shuts down bit by bit to conserve energy for what I am about to do. Drawing on as much power as I dare, I _reach_ _out._

After what seems like an eternity, the world my eyes can see drops away to reveal an endless void, populated by millions of stars. I grasp at the brightest of them and draw them in, like a fisherman reeling in his catch. All at once, a hundred…two hundred…four and more minds assault my senses. To avoid overloading my brain, I separate them into smaller, less distinct groups. Years ago, this would have killed me outright. Now? It's a minor annoyance.

Fear, Pain, and Anger permeate everything. For a moment, it's overwhelming. But only for a moment. I pull on my power, pushing out into the minds of the Ysanna.

Fear turns to Resolve. You have feared for your family long enough. _You will not let these beasts have them._

Pain turns to Resolve. You have suffered your wounds long enough. _You will not let these beasts inflict more._

Anger turns to Resolve. You have raged at the night long enough. _You will not stop until all are safe._

At once, the tide turns. The Ysanna become more focused as their fear faded, their pain soothed, their anger directed.

Several stars dim and nearly go out. With little thought, I direct the Force towards them and watch with satisfaction as their light returns. My physical eyes would have told me that their wounds closed and their bodies were reinvigorated. Again and again this happens. Again and again, I bring them back.

I don't know how long I've been doing this. Time has no meaning in the void. For all I know, this could be happening in a split second or hours. Exhaustion is creeping in. It's quickly shoved to the side.

Exhaustion has no meaning here.

The brightest star flickers as it clashes with another. I have to focus on them to tell them apart. One is Ysrik, the other Rivus. Sword clashes against saber, but does not break. He must be reinforcing it with the Force. Didn't know that he knew how to do that.

At first, the fight seems even, hell even going in Ysrik's favor. But he's tiring and Rivus is younger. Ysrik's great strength will fall soon. But only if I do nothing.

I'm not letting Hyra lose anyone else.

I reach for the chief's mind, only to come across a surprisingly well-constructed mental barrier. However, the touch startles him, allowing Rivus to score a hit on the chief's left shoulder.

 _Ysrik, let me in. I'm here to help._

There is only a moment's hesitance before the barrier falls. Unobstructed, I pour power into the older man, restoring and empowering him. Rivus is surprised when Ysrik's next blow knocks him away.

In that moment of shock, I forcefully delve into Rivus' psyche, crashing through now-feeble mental defenses. Steeling my will against the darkness inside, I flood his mind with as much raw light-attuned power as I can muster. An unearthly shriek echoes in the Force as _something_ felt that, confirming my fear as I'm pushed out.

The ghost is possessing Rivus now. I'm not strong enough to drive her out completely, but I've weakened her and forced her out of hiding.

She knows she's losing now. She sicks a nearby alchemical beast on Ysrik in her bid to escape. With my power fueling him, the chief makes short work of the monster, but the ghost got away.

The battle is over, with only a few stragglers still putting up a fight. I break off the Battle Meditation, only to flop on the ground as the full force of my exhaustion hits me. Taking deep breaths, I draw in power from Ossus itself to replenish me. It's no substitute for proper rest, but I don't have time. When I can finally move, I sling myself up onto Brunhild's back and begin the pursuit.

Rivus and the ghost are heading for the Library. The final battle is ahead.

* * *

 **Act 3: Chapter 7**

Rise A Knight

[Year 3: June 18, 2020]

I cling to Brunhild as much as I'm able to as she runs to the library. I can't do much else as I continue to draw in more power to revitalize myself. I've never been this tired before. Not back home or during training. Everything aches and I feel sluggish.

But I have to keep going.

If I fall, everything on this planet goes with me. Master Ood may be strong, but he's literally rooted to the ground. Hyra's still injured and unconscious last I saw. The Ysanna are alive, but licking their wounds.

So yeah, no pressure.

Rivus…er, the ghost…Fuck it, I'm just calling whatever they are now "Abomination."

Right. Abomination isn't too far ahead of me, being on foot and all. Still, a properly motivated Force user can probably break the sound barrier when pushed. Hell, I'd be doing it right now if I wasn't trying to conserve energy. The library's in sight, and I don't sense any heavy Force us-

Gah!

I clutch my head as a roar of pain echoes in the Force, cut short as my neck suddenly feels like it's on fire. I choke as I momentarily lose the ability to breathe. Brunhild realizes what happened before I do and lets out a keening howl.

Richard has fallen.

I shove the pain to the side and urge Brunhild to go faster. There will be time to mourn when it's all over.

Like in the vision, I find Richard near the main archway of the ruins, absolutely covered in wounds. He's still alive, but not for long. The seared cut across his neck is fatal. If I were rested, I could heal it with some effort. But now, I can only ease his pain.

Brunhild spends her mate's last moments with her forehead pressed to his, eyes closed. As I feel his life fading, I want to be saddened. I want to feel something. But all I feel is empty.

This titan that was both friend and guardian passes not with a roar, but a whisper, drowned out by the rain.

I leave Brunhild to grieve as the sound of lightsabers clashing can be heard ahead.

* * *

I come upon an eerily familiar scene. Master Ood, awkwardly wielding his lightsaber in tentacle-like appendages, defends himself as best he can against a darkened figure in the pouring rain. Several of his branches are missing, capped by smoking stumps, and his trunk is littered with gashes. I don't leap in this time.

There! The missed parry!

Before Abomination's strike connects, I grab them with the Force and _pull_ , sending them flying towards me. It's just in time, and they only inflict a light scratch on the Neti rather than a killing blow. My saber is in my hand and ignited as the creature lands. Blue crashes against yellow.

Soresu is described as the purest expression of Jedi pacifism. That to master it, one has to be the "eye of the storm" and calm. I am no master, nor am I a pacifist. I have to be something else.

I become like the stones around us. The world becomes sluggish as I delve into the Force, starting a moving meditation.

Deprived of their intended target, they unleash a flurry of stabs and slashes. Makashi, then. They're smoother this time. The ghost is more in control than before. No matter. I parry and refuse to give ground. I am like the stone, weathering the storm.

They screech and jeer in a poor imitation of true Dun Moch. I drown their voice out with the sound of the falling rain. I am like the stone, unyielding and uncaring of their manipulations.

They roar, smashing at my defense with brutish strikes as the dark rage takes hold. The runes on their skin glow, filling the air with the stench of burning flesh. This time, I am prepared for their superhuman strength and redirect the momentum. I am no longer like the stone, but the mountain. I will not crumble to earthquakes.

And like the mountain, the avalanche is my response. I abruptly switch from the defensive grace of Soresu to the thunderous strokes of Djem So, hammering away at their defense with overhead strikes. Abomination's strength is still inhuman, but they're weakening from exhaustion and staggered from the sudden onslaught. Hours of fighting and Force use have taken their toll on us both. But getting into a slugfest was not my intention.

Finally, we initiate a saberlock. Abomination's face is illuminated by the sparking blades, revealing a savage, triumphant grin. They begin pushing my own weapon towards my face with a strength I can't match. So I don't _try_.

Instead, I _do_ something else.

A flash of brilliant white light chases away the darkness for a brief moment as I blast Abomination with Light-attuned power at point-blank range. They howl in pain as it burns at their tainted power and their voice gains a reverb as the ghost's hold is cracked. Cracked, but still holding.

The runes adorning their flesh dim as the dark power fueling them is seared away. I can feel their strength ebbing. Not enough.

Still howling, Abomination leaps away, yellow-orange eyes darting about unseeing. I've blinded them, however temporarily. I disengage my lightsaber and draw in my power, until I'm certain my presence is concealed. It's not the real Force cloaking ability, but against a blinded opponent it might as well be.

In the vision, Abomination made use of the darkness of the sublevels to strike at me. Time to turn the tables.

Slowing my breathing, I stalk around them. Thankfully, the rain is covering the sound of my footsteps. Abomination twitches as they try to sense me. I smirk as they turn the wrong way.

I lunge forward, switching my saber back on. While their eyes are blinded, their danger sense is still functioning. Their saber snaps back to deflect my blow. I disengage and pull back to avoid the retaliatory slash.

Abomination's mouth moves, but I drown out their words with the rain. I don't need to hear crazed rambling or cursing.

A third lightsaber igniting snaps me out of my focus. Hyra has joined the fight. I feel a sense of relief as I realize that I'm not alone anymore. I don't know where she was this whole time, but her Force presence is screaming. To Abomination, who must have been pushing their senses to the limit to try and find me, it must have been deafening, as they clutch at their head with their offhand.

Sneaky sneaky, Hyra.

While they're distracted, she rushes forward and slashes at Abomination's legs. Though blind and partially-deafened, they jump over the sweep as their danger sense kicks in. Hyra doesn't stop at that. As the strike misses, she flows into the next, an overhead strike to catch Abomination's lightsaber in a saberlock. She only holds it for a second before delivering a front kick to their stomach. A boom sounds off as she fires a Force Blast out of her foot on contact.

The much larger creature goes flying, about twenty feet, before landing in a roll. Hyra doesn't give them a chance to recover, leaping across the distance between them with a battle cry louder than the thunder. I blink dumbly as I watch Hyra go to town on Abomination.

Holy crap, where was she hiding this two hours ago?!

Rather than sit there like an idiot, I connect my mind to hers so we're not tripping over each other when I rejoin the fight. The opportunity comes moments later when Hyra is shoved back by a desperate push. Gathering the Force into my legs, I leap into the fray with an overhead power attack. Though it's blocked in time, my momentum and weight combined with Abomination's waning strength forces the larger being to one knee.

I'm close enough that I can see the moment Abomination's sight returns, and with it comprehension that they're in serious trouble. With a roar, Hyra and I are hit with a telekinetic wave, knocking us back but not off-balance. Their form blurs as it uses that opportunity to dart to the stairs for the sublevels.

I smile. Predictable.

Before we give chase, I glance at Hyra, checking for injuries. I don't see any. Master Ood must have gotten a chance to finish healing her ribs. At this point, we're both panting for air. That causes a frown to form on my face. I've been sparring with Hyra for years now, so I damn well know that her stamina is better than mine. I compensate by using Soresu, a low-intensity form. But she's been unconscious and resting for the past two hours. She should _not_ be this winded yet.

I shake my head. We don't have time right now. This needs to end quickly, before it becomes an issue, "I'll lead. Catch your breath in the meantime."

The shaman nods and falls in behind me.

* * *

The sublevels are as dusty as I left them weeks ago, but somehow less creepy. A frustrated snarl echoes from further ahead, making my smile widen.

And that would be the why.

The lights aren't off anymore. I found the library's backup generator weeks ago in the droid repair shop and used my free time to jury-rig it, switching it on just before we left. While most of the electronics were fried by the supernova, enough of the lights are working that Abomination has nowhere to hide. I don't like stepping onto a battlefield that I haven't prepared. Especially when it's home territory.

I died down here once. I sure as hell wasn't going to let it happen again.

Despite the disadvantageous position, Abomination didn't seem any less confident. In fact, they seem to have regained some of their strength. I guess being closer to the ghost's physical remains is empowering them.

 _I've got a plan, Hyra._

She nods as I tell her. She'll play her part.

There's not enough vertical space for me to jump, so I charge, leading with horizontal Djem So swings. I don't need to be defensive right now. What I need is to keep them on their toes. Growling, Abomination falls back to the ghost's preferred form. Despite Rivus' bulky, heavily built body, they're deflecting my attacks with a fencer's precision. She's now almost fully in control and the swordsmanship shows it. It's not quite what I'd expect from a Master, but it's better than my Djem So skills from a technical standpoint.

I duck away from a stab intended for my chest and shout, "Now!"

A gust of wind passes by me as a perfectly timed telekinetic push from Hyra slams into Abomination, sending them hurtling down the stairs to the next level. Neither of us wastes time in following them. They are just getting their bearings back when we get there.

Again, I lead with a highly aggressive opener, smashing against their flailing defense. I think the ghost is aware of what we're trying to do, as Abomination's counters become increasingly desperate. Lights flicker as they throw lightning at me in an attempt to push me back.

Before, I became the immovable object idealized by Soresu. But now, I become the unstoppable force of Djem So. Catching the electrical discharge on my blade, I continue without pause, slamming my weapon against theirs again and again. I feel nothing as I rain down blow after blow. Each strike staggers them and steals away a bit of their strength. The runes are dormant now.

I smash their lightsaber to the side and shout again, "Now!"

I swiftly sidestep as Abomination is shoved further down into the last sublevel. I can feel Hyra's exhaustion behind me.

"Take a rest. I can handle it from here," I order. I don't stay long enough to hear a response.

Further down, there are less broken lights. I guess we're far enough underground that they weren't damaged. The vault is in the same shape as I left it, and the dormant holocrons paint the room in a myriad of colors.

Abomination is waiting for me, looking at the Miraluka corpse with an almost nostalgic expression. When they speak, there is no rain for me to drown them out with.

"This place was an end and a beginning, so long ago," The reverb has mostly vanished, though the dominant voice is feminine. Which is pretty disturbing coming from the mouth of a man built like Conan the Barbarian, "You forced me here for a reason. Why? So I might gaze upon my own body? Repent my ways? Foolish Jedi, this place will be your tomb as it was mine."

"We'll see about that," I reply curtly. I have approached this situation with patience long enough. It's time to end this.

We advance simultaneously, the ghost's lunge meeting my power attack. I knock her strike away and inflict a light burn on her chest, though she recovers quickly enough. The muscles in my arms burn from the near-constant fighting. Even Rivus' body is starting to breathe hard. We're both exhausted, and exhaustion means that one of us is about to make a mistake.

Ow.

Turns out, the mistake is mine, as I go flying into a wall courtesy of a Force push. I underestimated how much of a boost proximity to her remains would provide. I pull myself out of the wall in time to dodge a stab. And so the fight continues. The ghost dances around me, jabbing at any perceived weaknesses in my increasingly clumsy, yet still effective, defense. When I counterattacked, I suppose it was only inevitable that I'd end up in another saberlock.

Abomination's superhuman strength is gone without the runes that powered it, leaving only Rivus' natural strength. _That_ , I can match. But just as victory seems to be in hand, the unexpected happens.

A spectral arm reaches out of Rivus' chest and into mine. The cold in the air intensifies a hundred-fold, leaving me frozen and numb. Dread forms in my stomach as a part of my vision plays out before me. The lightsaber rises, preparing for the final strike…

Oh God. Oh God pleasepleasenononono-

And stops as their arm freezes in place. A triumphant grin turns to confusion, then to anger. That pause is enough for me to break free.

My saber swings around, angled to deliver a sai tok slice from their right hip to the left. Time slows down just before I give them the Darth Maul treatment. In that split-second, I reconsider and change the angle of attack.

The stench of burning flesh pollutes the air again, though not from the runes this time. Abomination howls in pain as their sword arm is separated from their body just below the shoulder, stumbling and clutching at the smoking stump. The severed appendage drops to the ground with a meaty thump, weapon still ignited.

"That was for Master Ood and Richard," I quip just before kicking Abomination in the stomach, knocking them back, "And that was for Hyra."

Threat temporarily neutralized, I close my eyes and concentrate, focusing power into a single point. I can see the results through my eyelids, and I have to squint to see. In my hand is a glowing orb of raw power, the same kind I've been hitting the ghost with since our battle began. In a manner that could almost be called lazy, I toss the ball of sunshine at the Miraluka's corpse, where it detonates in a flash that whites out the room. When it fades, all that is left is a set of empty robes.

Abomination stares in horror at the sight before letting out a haunting wail. A wave of violet power bursts forth from Rivus' body as the spirit is torn apart from inside its fleshy host, sending me back into the wall. When it dies down, the only sound is that of us breathing.

"Is it over?" Hyra asks from the stairwell.

"Yeah. It's over," I reply, "Once her body, her anchor, was destroyed, her spirit went with it. By the way, thanks for saving me. I was almost a dead man for a second."

She nods, smiling, though her eyes are locked on Rivus' body, "Is he…?"

Turning back, I'm actually surprised to find that the fallen Ysanna is still alive. I walk over and crouch next to him, scanning him with the Force. My face turns grim.

Yes, he's alive, but his organs are shutting down rapidly. Whatever the ghost did to him as a result of the possession, it's eating away at him. If I work fast, I can save him with the power I've got left. I can give him the choice that he didn't get because of the ghost. If he continues down the dark, I'll kill him with a clean conscience. But I'd prefer to see if it goes there before resorting to preemptive murder. Part of me wants to end him regardless, in revenge for Richard. But the monster that did that is gone now. Banished.

"Yeah, he's alive," I repeat out loud after that moment of introspection, "But I need to work quickly to keep him that way."

"I…That is...good. Good," Hyra blinks rapidly before taking a few stumbling steps towards Rivus, "I-I feel…unwell." She gets that last bit out just as she collapses.

Shit! This is the first time I've been able to get a good look at Hyra's face since the fight started. That's the only way I would have missed the blackened veins crisscrossing her skin. But when…

My eyes dart down to the torn hide around her calf. The beast from before…It's fangs were poisoned. Shit, Sith poison! I don't have enough power left to save both.

"My my, quite the twist ending to this little story."

I look up as Tyren's voice fills the room. There, against the wall lies his holocron, his image projecting from it. It must've slipped out when I was slammed against it.

"Choices, choices. Although, it would be a rather simple one for me," The Sith Lord sniffs, "Save the woman. The beast has already tried to kill you. He will try again."

"Save…Hyra," Damn, Rivus is a tough bastard. He's already awake, though disoriented.

Hyra's brown eyes bore into mine, even though her strength is waning, "Don't you dare, you bastard. You already promised. Save Rivus." She's been around me too long if she's starting to use contractions.

Suddenly, the vision of the yellow-brick road is in front of me. This is the moment, and I can see more of the paths. Heal Hyra and Rivus dies, I betray my friend and my principles. Heal Rivus and Hyra dies, I still betray my friend and my principles.

There…There's no winning this.

No. No. No, there's got to be a way.

For a moment, I think about asking Tyren for help. No, that is _definitely_ not the way. For agonizing moments, I frantically run through my options, every possible solution I can think of. Damnit, come on, brain. I feed you for a reason!

In the end, there is nothing. I can only stare helplessly at the floor, wracked by indecision.

The two paths taunt me with their presence.

"Choose, supplicant, or they both die!" Tyren shouts at me.

In that moment, I feel my bond with Master Ood and inspiration comes.

"No," I whisper.

With that word, the yellow-bricked roads shatter, breaking into thousands of parts before reforming into a singular one. _Mine_.

"Fuck you, Tyren! And fuck the yellow-brick road!" I roar back.

I pull Hyra to Rivus' side. I pause for a moment to watch as their hands seek each other out, cementing my decision. I kneel between them, placing a hand on each of their stomachs. For the second time tonight, I reach out.

Not for the Ysanna. Not for Master Ood. But for Ossus itself.

All at once, I feel millions of minds slam into my own, from the most complex to the most simplistic. Grunting, I shove them to the side. I don't need them. Instead, I grab onto the gigantic presence that is the planet itself, siphoning power from the Living Force generated by the celestial body. Pain erupts in every inch of my body as I touch it.

But this is the void. Pain has no meaning here.

It's like funneling the ocean into a bottle, with me as the funnel. I feel like I'm going to explode, but I do it. I direct that power into their bodies, overcharging my healing abilities.

I dully watch the flesh knit over the burnt stump where Rivus' arm used to be. The side effects of dark side use are purged from his body and his organs are revitalized. The blackened veins shrink back into Hyra's skin and return to their natural color. My own bruises and cuts vanish.

I barely manage to end the flow of power before it kills us all. The world spins as I slump forward. Tyren's projection sneers and fades away.

As my vision goes dark, a blue glow fills the room. A cracked, ancient voice whispers:

 _ **"Well done…young knight."**_

* * *

 **Act 3: Chapter 8**

One For the Road

[Year 4: August 22, 2021]

I turned twenty-seven yesterday. It's been about a year since the fight with Rivus and the ghost. When we all woke up after the healing, it wasn't down in the vault, but rather at the entrance to the sublevels. I have my suspicions of how we got there, but no certainties.

Oh, that reminds me. As the last remaining Master of the Ossus Temple, Ood had the authority to officially bestow my knighthood as a reward for the night's events. I say "officially" because of what happened at the end of the battle. When I told him, the Neti went quieter than usual.

Of course, it's mostly ceremonial at this point given that the Order at large doesn't know that Master Ood is still alive, so I'll need to get it confirmed if I ever meet the High Council.

Following the battle, I buried Richard in the clearing where he used to sunbathe. The crystal from my lightsaber, which had died as well soon after, joined my friend in his grave. That…was a somber and uncomfortable afternoon.

Rivus was given to the Ysanna for judgement. He may not have been in full control of his actions that night, but he was still partly responsible for attacking his own people. The sentencing was swift and relatively light. Ysanna do not kill Ysanna, after all. The tribe only has one punishment for crimes against it: Exile. Never again may he call himself Ysanna, nor speak their language aloud. Should he approach the tribe, they will kill him.

He was granted a single night with his bondmate for…well, things that married couples do. The tribe is too small to let him just walk off without contributing to the population.

On a side note, holy jumping jack Jesus Christ on a pogo stick! Hyra was downright _terrifying_ when she was pregnant! I just glad her lightsaber stopped working around the same time mine did, otherwise I think Rivus would have become a double amputee.

Following the sentencing, Rivus took up residence at the temple with Master Ood and I. At our insistence. The healing may have removed his physical damage, but his psyche was still a trainwreck. Taking care of that would help mitigate the chances of a resurgence. It took months of sessions before his mind was anything even approaching normal. Weekly visits from Hyra helped accelerate the process tremendously. Whatever darkness remained was banished after Kyrus was born and the proud father held his son in his arms for the first time.

Eventually, healing sessions turned to training sessions as Rivus decided that he wanted to take up the ways of the Jedi, now that the Ysanna were barred to him. Unsurprisingly, he took to Djem So like a fish to water, though the one-handed Darth Malgus variant due to his handicap. However, he retained an odd proficiency with Force Lightning and can use it without negative emotions powering it.

I just wish he'd stop calling me "Master." Rivus is older than me by about seven years, making it a bit awkward.

Anyways, I finally got around to activating the T3 unit a few months after the battle. It…was an interesting first meeting.

* * *

[Year 3: November 16, 2020]

I pause before I flip the switch. After years and years of cleaning and maintaining this thing, I am going to savor this moment…

Alright, moment's over. There is a small click as I activate the droid.

A whirring sound starts from somewhere in its chassis. Light appears in its single photoreceptor as its cognitive functions come online. Small jerking movements of its limbs signal the start-up of its motor control processors.

The droid's head spins in place, taking in the interior of my shelter, letting out a low droning noise at it does so. Finally, it settles on me before letting out a high-speed stream of beeps and whistles.

Uh oh. I…really didn't think this through.

"I don't know what you just said," I reply.

The eye stares at me for a moment before repeating the same sequence of noises, but slower this time.

I give it a deadpan look, "Slowing down what you said isn't gonna help me understand a language I don't know in the first place," I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose, "Come on, Master Ood probably knows Binary."

I get up and start to walk out. Apparently, it isn't fast enough as:

 _Zap_. "YEOWCH!"

I jump a full two feet off the ground as what feels like a bolt of lightning hits my left ass cheek. I spin around to see a small appendage extending out of the T3 unit's head, tip crackling with electricity ominously.

Is that a fucking cattle prod?!

The droid jolts towards me. I break out into a dead sprint through the "door," bastard astromech right on my heels and beeping a little too cheerfully.

* * *

[Year 4: August 22, 2021]

Suffice it to say, we had a rocky start. Still, things got smoothed over with Master Ood mediating. The droid's designation is T3-B9, though it likes to be called "Three-Bee." Also, the ornery little bastard identifies as male. Not sure how that works. I mean, it's not like he's got identifying characteristics like an actual voice. His vocabulary consists of beeps and whistles, with the occasional shriek. I don't think pronouns even exist in Binary. On a positive note, he's not zapping me with his shock-probe anymore. Took a month to pull that off…

No. He's going after Rivus now. It makes for good _tutaminis_ practice, something that the former Ysanna really needs to work on. It's also pretty damn funny.

Huh? Oh, looks like Master Ood needs something.

* * *

 **"I may have a thought of a way for you to venture off world."**

I glance around the ruins, "Have you been hiding a starship here or something and waited until now to tell me?"

"Not as such," For a moment, I swear to God he just chuckled, "You and I would be performing a similar exercise to the one we used to locate Rivus, only turned outwards."

"And find the nearest starship to send a message to," I finish, connecting the dots, "That sounds like it would take more power than we've got."

"Correct. It will take some time to gather the power necessary from Ossus," Master Ood replies, "In the meantime, I have a task for you."

Alright…Gotta wonder what it is. The ghost is gone, Rivus was redeemed, Hyra's not dead…

He continues, "There is a Jedi holocron in the deepest part of the vault below. It was intended for it to be transferred to the Coruscant Temple for safety, but the suddenness of the Library's destruction resulted in it being left behind. I wish for you to retrieve it and take it on your journey."

* * *

And that's how I found myself now: going back down to the vault. The sublevels are a lot more pleasant now that Three-Bee's been cleaning up and doing proper maintenance, though the stream of obscenity-laden beeping that resulted when he found the gaping hole where the vault door used to be was hilarious.

I step into the vault. This is the first time I've physically been inside of here. I've looked in, but never entered. Tyren's holocron once again sits on its pedestal. Keeping a wary eye on it, I skirt around the room. I'm not willing to mess with it again. I learned my lesson last time.

The vault takes up the entirety of the third sublevel. When the library was standing, this was the most secure room in the building, protected by some of the most powerful Masters of the Jedi Order. The walls of this vault are lined with dozens of glowing holocrons, Jedi and Sith alike, throwing the room into a mess of color. Even with my trepidation in the presence of so many dark artifacts, I can't help but be awed to see so much knowledge. Each of these holocrons contains at least decades of knowledge. This one room alone likely holds more collective information than all the libraries on Earth combined.

There are six rooms on this floor. As I go further in, other items show up: scrolls, ancient swords, crystals…hell, even actual books!

Before coming here, I studied ancient history in college, so for me, this place is incredible. But this isn't mine to touch, to study. As a Jedi, I was trained as a warrior, at my own insistence. I was a scholar trapped on a death world with minimal martial training and I needed to survive. Though I would love to say that I would likely inherit the Library should Master Ood pass, that role is more likely to go to Hyra.

Shaking my head, I venture to the last room. Like the first room, this one has a pedestal in the middle, with shelves occupied by yet more holocrons.

My eye was drawn to the pedestal, to a small cube made of grey metal and green crystal. While I wasn't given a description of the item I'm supposed to retrieve, the Force is pulling me towards this one. The tips of my fingers brush against it. Unlike the Sith Holocron, this one is cool to the touch, but glowing with a soft light.

A blue glow fills the room, _**"I had wondered when you would return."**_

I know that voice. It reminds me of the crinkle of old parchment that you hear in movies. Like Master Ood's voice, it's comforting, but you can sense the sheer power behind it.

"Thank you for returning us to the surface," I reply without turning around. My eyes admire the simplistic artistry that went into crafting the holocron, "I don't want to sound ungrateful, but if you were there the whole time, why didn't you help us earlier?"

I can almost hear the dry amusement in the voice, _**"It was not my place to interfere in your Trial, young knight. Your skills, and those of your friend, were more than enough to accomplish the task,"**_ It pauses, _ **"Though I will admit that I felt no small amount of concern towards the end, when despair found you. I am proud that you managed to persevere, despite the circumstances. Although, I did aid you earlier. Did you not wonder why she only took the one holocron? When there were so many around her, why did she only take the most easily accessible one?"**_

"You chased her off," I comment quietly. I turn around slowly. There, at the entry way, stood the hunched form of a gaunt, obsidian-skinned reptilian figure, dressed in simple, unadorned robes.

 _ **"Indeed. The Miraluka had been a persistent nuisance for millennia, lacking the strength to affect the physical world. She could not get through the barrier around the vault as she was, nor activate any of the holocrons within. It was not until her mind formed the idea to take a host body that I needed to act,"**_ The old alien explains, _**"Though I was limited in my ability to avert her plans, your arrival on this world forced her to act rashly."**_

I don't say anything for a moment and I find my eyes drawn once more to the holocron on the pedestal. The ghost "walks" up next to me, a look of what I can only describe as nostalgia on his face.

I nod towards the artifact, "I was sent here to retrieve this, though I don't really know anything about it. Whose is it?"

The Draethos gives an enigmatic smile, _**"An old friend. Their knowledge will serve you well on your journey."**_

His eyes move down to the ancient lightsaber still hanging on my belt, _**"The crystal is the heart of the blade. The blade is the heart of the Jedi. The Jedi is the heart of the Force. While I do not agree entirely with that philosophy, without the first, you do not feel complete,"**_ A breeze flows through the room as he begins to fade, _**"When you leave, take the crystal that calls to you from the other room to serve as your new heart. May the Force be with you, young knight."**_

And then, I'm alone again.

I glance at the spot where the elderly being had stood, "Thank you, Master Odan-Urr."

* * *

My business concluded, I pocketed the holocron and left the room. The crystals that had drawn my eye minutes earlier seem all the brighter in the glow of the vault. Blue, green, yellow, orange, bronze, violet, and more.

I'm supposed to find the one that "calls" to me. So I observe with all of my senses. My eyes only find the glow of the crystals. My nose only detects the centuries of dust around me. My skin feels the competing auras of the holocrons around me as they struggle against each other. My ears hear a faint hum as the ancient gatekeepers, Light and Dark, take an interest in the proximity of a Force user.

My Force-given senses reach out, delving into the cases of crystals. One by one, my mind sifts through each at the speed of thought.

No. Rejected. No. No. Rejected. Oh God, who used that one?! No. No.

Ah. There you are.

A gesture with the Force has the tiny crystal come flying out of its case to land in my hand. Such a small thing, but it's the heart of one of the most dangerous tools in the galaxy.

Like my saber's first crystal, it has a set "personality." While the old one was an aged veteran, this one reminds me of a young sailor, setting sail for the first time. It's almost timid. But it also has boundless curiosity, eagerness for adventure, and the desire to see something new.

It barely takes a thought for my lightsaber hilt to float up to eye level and disassemble into the hundreds of parts that make up its deceptively simple frame. My crystal joins the rest of its new brethren components at the center of the metal maelstrom. One by one, each part slides into place as easily as they did on the day of its crafting, finishing with a click.

I grasp the hilt with my left hand and ignite the blade, dying the room emerald.

* * *

 **Act 3: Chapter 9**

But Why Is the Rum Gone?

[Year 4: August 23, 2021]

It takes Master Ood a full day to gather the power necessary to pull this off. With him regulating it, I won't get the backlash I did when I healed Hyra and Rivus. The three of us are gathered around his trunk, our minds connected in a collective Force trance. Hyra and Rivus provide power and control, while I direct the whole effort.

Part of me doesn't want to leave Ossus. The galaxy is a huge and terrifying place, filled with just as much horror as heroism. But the Force is pulling, telling me I have to go eventually. Now is as good a time as any.

The view of the void is the same as it ever was, the millions of minds pressing against ours. I ignore them as I turn our focus outwards, away from the planet. Billions of pinpoints of light dot the void, with smaller spots travelling between them. I pause a moment to take in the enormity of it all. With this power, I could touch anything in the galaxy…bend it to my…

No. I shake that thought away as quickly as it comes. That's not me.

I change our focus to the nearest dot. In comparison to everything around it, it's a miniscule thing that almost slipped from our attention. I magnify the object, until we can see an outline of the inside.

It's a moderately-sized vessel, a bit bigger than the Ebon Hawk. I can't tell what model it is from here, but I can sense the twenty-two lifeforms milling about inside of it. Most aren't really eye-catching, but a single figure stands out from the rest. Of all of them, their light shines the brightest. A Force Sensitive. Good, we can contact them.

I prepare a message, containing an image of Ossus from orbit and its hyperspace coordinates provided by Master Ood. But as soon as I touch their mind, I realize I should have picked better.

The darkness in the captain's thoughts is staggering. There is no madness like with Rivus, rather greed and cruelty power his thoughts. And I just gave him a ripe target and the means to get there.

I rip us away from his mind, abruptly ending the trance.

All of us are breathing hard and more than a bit disoriented from the effort and the backlash.

Shit.

"Hyra, get the Ysanna to the mountains and scatter, then come back. I don't know how many others may be coming and I don't want to chance them finding your people. Ossus can hide them," I bark, snapping the others out of their daze, "Rivus, you and I are going to start preparing. We've got days at best."

* * *

[Year 4: August 26, 2021]

Just as we suspected, it only took a few days for them to arrive. From the temple steps, I could see their ship come in for a landing. It's an ugly thing, like a grey box with wings. Oh well, I don't really care for its aesthetic appeal, just that it's space-worthy. The fact that they got here at all is a testament to their pilot and the ship, given the wreck the Cron Cluster is supposed to be.

There are only so many paths to the temple that they can take if they want to stick together. This is unknown territory for them and only an idiot goes off on their own. Of course, I could just be overestimating their intelligence.

And that's why I'm kneeling in meditation in the center of the largest path between the landing zone and the library. What better roadblock could you ask for than a Soresu practitioner?

Heavy boots crashing through the brush and muted cursing bring my thoughts to the present.

"Well well, look what we have here," A scratchy voice jeers. It's one of those voices that sounds like they chain smoke twenty packs of cigarettes a day, "Seems we just hit paydirt, boys!" A round of laughter and cheers starts up at that.

I glance up at the group. It's a motley crew of fourteen humans and aliens. Zabrak, Twi'Lek, Aqualish. Three are dressed in heavy armor, five just have regular clothing, and the rest are in between. Their weapons are just as varied, though most are carrying blasters of some kind. The leader though…

He's a grizzled older human, hair streaked with grey and skin covered in scars. I'd estimate his age to be somewhere in his forties, maybe early fifties. His eyes are brown, not the yellow I was expecting. Most of his outfit consists of a red jumpsuit, with dark grey armor covering his chest, though his arms are bare. He's a big dude, tall and heavily built. Strapped to his left hip is a blaster pistol and on the right…

A lightsaber. Shit.

"You da one who sent da message?" He asks with an accent I can't quite identify. When I nod, he grins wider. It's not a pretty thing, "Dat so? Well, dat had to take a lotta power. Bet I could get a good price for ya, Jedi."

A cold feeling rushes into my gut. I'd been suspecting it from their rush to get here, but here's confirmation. Slavers. I'd laugh at the thought that they're mistaking me for a Jedi of Master Ood's caliber, but that got drowned out fast.

I feel a ping in the Force. Time to play my part, no matter how much even talking with these _things_ disgusts me.

"I don't think chains are a good look for me. It's just not…me," I snark with a posh sneer, "Besides, the service must be terrible."

The leader rubs his stubble-covered chin as though thinking about it, giving me a once over, "Nah, I dink you could pull it off. Just haf ta get the right ones on you."

I'll admit, he's a good sport for going with it. Guess he just likes playing with his prey, "Ehh…Still can't see it. Besides, I'd make a terrible slave. I mean, I do stuff like THIS!" I shout the last bit as I throw a wave of telekinetic power into the group. As they go tumbling like bowling pins, I jump to my feet and ignite my lightsaber just in time to deflect a stun bolt from the leader.

Okay, the fact that he didn't get knocked over is kind of impressive. He doesn't even seem all that pissed as he shouts, "Blast him. Stunners only, boys."

I delve into the Force and slide into Soresu as a literal hail of blasterfire comes sailing my way. I engage the Circle of Shelter maneuver, creating a dome of blurring green light as my lightsaber spins around me fast enough to deflect them all. I'm not a master of Form III, but I'm getting pretty damn close.

Force OP, pleez nerf.

With my sped-up senses, I note a flicker of movement from behind the group. A smile worms its way onto my face. About time.

A roar echoes over the blasterfire as Rivus crashes down in the center of the group, smashing into the ground with a Repulse. The telekinetic blast knocks the mundane slavers clear off the ground, while the leader is forced to stumble forward.

A rapid fire series of cracks sound off from the brush and five of the slavers suddenly find that they have new holes where they shouldn't. Hyra fades into view, reloading a smoking rifle with eyes closed in concentration. Since her lightsaber stopped working, she switched over to her people's more traditional slugthrower rifle.

As the guns shift to him, Rivus ignites his lightsaber and shifts it to the reverse-Shien grip. For a man with only one arm, he hasn't lost much skill, though it helps that he was naturally ambidextrous. Still, his defense isn't perfect and a few bolts get through, only to splash harmlessly against his skin. I've said it before, Rivus is a tough bastard and the Force agrees. Stun setting isn't going to work on him.

While Rivus carves through the mooks, I rush the leader, who's still off-balance from the second wave. Rather than panic, he just grins and pulls his lightsaber from his belt, igniting it just as I slash at him. Green meets blue as I get the feeling I just metaphorically smacked face-first into the Great Wall of China. I break the saberlock before it starts.

I frown. Instead of being worried, he's almost giddy about finding three potential Force users. He's either over-confident, insane, or good at what he does.

I hop out of his reach when his retaliatory swing comes. If he's as strong as Rivus, getting into a slugfest is not to my advantage. His counterattack is brutal, but unrefined, like a barbarian swinging a cudgel. His deep raspy laughter echoes as he bears down, but I refuse to give ground.

I am as the stone…

With my perception sped up like this, I can pick apart his technique or whatever the hell he's using. I can see a base of…Shii-Cho?

I duck under a swipe meant for my neck.

Yeah, definitely Shii-Cho. I'd expect Form V from a big guy like him, but Shii-Cho? That's the beginner's form…

Woah! Okay, he just tried to headbutt me. Not completely Shii-Cho, then. He's just using it as a base and adding in bits and pieces, like I am with Soresu. That's why he's not worried about numbers. Form I is ideal for combating multiple opponents due to the big sweeping strikes.

I'm forced completely on the defensive as his sheer bulk starts overpowering me. Unrefined it may be, but swing hard enough and it doesn't really matter.

But Shii-Cho has its weaknesses. It's reliance on instinctual movement, for example.

"Hyra, head!" I shout.

A crack echoes over the din of battle. There are a few booms as the projectile changes direction several times, until it zooms past my head. Surprised, Captain Smoker whips his weapon up to deflect the shot, only to get a face full of molten metal. And that children, is why you don't try to deflect slugthrowers with a lightsaber.

He stumbles back, clawing at his face and growling.

I take the opportunity to leap over his head, swinging my saber in a horizontal sweep. The smell of burning skin intensifies as my weapon slices through his neck and left wrist. Everything goes quiet as the rest of his body topples to the ground.

I force down the bile caused by what I just did and take a deep breath. I've had _that_ talk with Master Ood multiple times. Occasionally, a Jedi is required to kill when there is no other option.

I had no means of keeping this man prisoner, nor of suppressing him. He would have forced me to kill him anyways. I knew this going into the fight.

He took the freedom to choose away from many others. I could feel their despair cling to him. He _chose_ his own direction long ago.

I'm not going to say he deserved it. I can't be that callous. But I'm not sad to see him gone.

Rivus has finished with his group. None are dismembered, but all are dead.

They were a threat and a menace. I'm not sad to see them gone.

We head back to get Three-Bee and some hover-sleds before we start the time-honored task of looting the bodies. The droid takes pictures to store for later. The leader may have had a bounty on his head and we'll need funds once we get off-world, for fuel and supplies if nothing else.

 _I'm not sad to see him gone._

I take his lightsaber and blaster, clipping them to my belt. Having a ranged weapon would be a good idea. A lightsaber is useful, but it's not viable for every situation. Having a spare saber isn't a bad idea either.

 _I'm not sad to see him gone.  
_  
We take the time to bury the bodies before heading for their ship.

* * *

 **Act 3: Chapter 10**

A Journey of a Thousand Miles…

[Year 4: August 26, 2021]

The three of us plus Three-Bee and spoils hold position just inside of the treeline around the landing zone.

The slaver's ship appears lightly guarded from the outside. A pair of battle droids stand at the entrance ramp. Not B-1s, these actually look like they could do some damage. Boxy humanoid design, but with quadruped legs, and equipped with rifles. Fortunately, combat droids usually aren't too smart.

No visible organic guards. The Dark Jedi must have been spooked by my message and mobilized in force to catch me. Still, the group we encountered only accounts for fifteen of the twenty-two lifeforms I sensed before. Seven more are still on the ship itself.

Taking into account that they may have "cargo," I have to operate under the assumption that there is still at least one crew member aboard the ship. We have to do this quietly or else they're going to get spooked and we'll lose our ticket off-world.

Rivus moves to engage, but I stop him with a hand on his shoulder and a shake of the head. Instead, I reach out with the Force and examine each droid. From the technical manuals I read in the droid repair shop (once I could actually read Basic), most droids, but especially fourth degree droids, have a physical off-switch in case they start refusing commands. How you would actually go about flipping that switch when the battle droid isn't listening to you anymore is a mystery, but there it is.

I asked Three-Bee about that a few months ago. He made me swear on the workbench like it was a Bible that I would never use his or give him a memory wipe. He threatened me with the shockprod. I took me _two hours_ to convince him that I was never going to give him a memory wipe because I thought quirky astromechs were better than their factory default counterparts. Two. Hours. I could've been doing something productive in that time. Never did get an answer out of him.

Ah, there it is. With a pull of the Force, I hit the switches on both droids simultaneously. Both stiffen up suddenly before powering down. Much quieter than hacking them apart. Also, I'm not going to waste a potential resource. Decent droids are expensive.

I nod to Rivus and Hyra before creeping towards the ship. Three-Bee remains with the loot in the cover of the trees.

We search the ship, but only find one more droid (which is disabled quickly). The only lifeforms here are in what I assume to be the cargohold. Apparently the slavers were dumb enough to only leave the droids behind. Works for me.

Sending Rivus to go get Three-Bee, I head towards the occupied part of the ship. I'm a bit embarrassed to say that I stared at the control panel for a few minutes before I figured out which button opened the door.

At least, that was supposed to open the door. Seems they were smart enough to lock it, at least. Not that it helps. Locked doors are nothing next to the power of the Force. Or access codes.

Yeah, I picked those off the Dark Jedi as well. It takes a bit of fumbling and cussing, but the door slides open with a whooshing sound. Ooooh. Future.

The hold is occupied by seven people, like I sensed, chained to the walls. Two Twi'Lek females (Twins!), an Iridonian Zabrak male, two humans (one each), a Sullustan male, and a…Rishii? All of which, save the last, are giving me Death Star laser-level glares. Good, they're defiant. That means they weren't broken. Makes my job easier.

The Rishii is bouncing in place, likely excited just to see someone new. Odd priorities, those Rishii.

"Well now, that's unwarranted," I quip with a smirk.

The Zabrak glances at my belt for a moment, where the slaver's lightsaber hangs next to my own. There's a ghost of a vindictive smile on his face before he looks up, "Well, pardon the rudeness and welcome to our humble quarters," Wow, that is the most sarcastic tone I've heard in four years. I like you, "Now what are we supposed to call you? Master?"

My smirk widens as I wave a hand. Twenty-eight clicks sound off as the manacles binding their wrists and ankles are unlocked, "'Isaac' is a good place to start. Although I am amenable to 'that handsome devil,' but only from the ladies. Who are all you people?"

Half of them look in awe of the casual Force use. The Zabrak isn't phased. He just rubs his wrists, "Name's Carver. The twins are Ranna and Vanna. Those two," He points at the humans, "are Zaek and Mari. Can't get a legible word outta Jabbermouth over there, he don't speak Basic. But we've figured out that his name's Diem. An-"

"Hi Hi! I'm Ratch," Good God, who gave bird-man caffeine?! "You're a Jedi, right? Right, you're a Jedi, who am I kidding you got a laser sword. What'cha doin' out in the Outer Rim? Thought Jedi didn't come out this far?"

"I'd have said it in fewer words, but Featherface's got a point. Proper Jedi don't come out this far. Just the monsters," Carver spits that last part, likely remembering the slaver, "You ain't one of them monsters, are you?"

I cock an eyebrow, "If I was, I probably would've answered that question with a lightsaber. Not sure if I'm a "proper" Jedi, though."

The Zabrak thinks it over, nods, then shrugs, "Good enough for me. You've already done me a good turn by lettin' me and the others loose."

Beeping from Three-Bee in the distance reminds me of something, "Uh, might want to hold off on the gratitude for the moment. On a completely unrelated note, are any of you pilots?"

Carver pipes up again, "Yeah. My freighter got stolen when I was caught. Why? Can't fly this rust bucket yourself?"

"Nope," I reply. Kind of hard to learn when the most advanced vehicle on the planet is an armored cat, "We've got an astromech with basic piloting protocols, but I'd rather not split his attention between astrogation and flying. Particularly since we're in the Cron Cluster."

"Huh," He grunts, "Thought that was just a big ball o' gas, nothing in it. Learn something new everyday, I guess."

* * *

As expected, none of the former slaves were interested in staying on Ossus permanently. We spent the rest of the day getting the ship ready, making a trip or two back to the temple, and getting to know each other.

Ranna and Vanna used to be waitresses at a cantina on Nar Shaddaa. Someone got a bit too interested in them one night and tried to grab them. They took the first freighter they could find to get offworld to lose their pursuers. Coincidence would dictate that the freighter in question was Carver's. The three of them were captured together a few days out of port. The twins have been busying themselves by taking stock of supplies. Carver's been cussing and adjusting the flight controls.

Zaek and Mari are a married couple that were nabbed on Tatooine, trading hands several times before coming into the Dark Jedi's…possession. Seems it's a fairly common phenomenon in the Outer Rim. If you don't have big friends, you risk getting randomly shanghaied every time you step out the door. They don't have much in the way of technical skills, so they've been spending the time straightening the ship. The slavers weren't a tidy bunch.

Diem was a mechanic on a different freighter, on route to some trading hub I can't spell or remember. Skilled technicians go for more than the average layman, so he was kept alive while everyone else got killed. Right now, he's arguing with Three-Bee over the engines, though he has to type everything out on a datapad since the astromech isn't programmed to understand Sullustese.

Ratch…well, I haven't really gotten a chance to ask him. Not from lack of interest, but because he doesn't close his beak long enough for me to get a word in edgewise. If I can find a roll of duct tape, I might manage to get through a conversation. I think he drove Rivus off about an hour ago before he came to pester me. I'm a nice guy, usually, but I have a limit to how much I'm willing to talk.

Speaking of Rivus, he went hunting to stock up our food. Personally, I think he just wanted to get away from all the blinking bits on the ship. He got really weirded out by a lot of the stuff we found when he helped me put the battle droids away.

The slavers were well stocked on foodstuffs, but not enough to feed a one ton murdercat. Yeah, Heracles has decided that he's coming with us. The moment he came up the ramp, Ratch disappeared real fast. That few minutes of absolute silence was glorious, though short-lived as the Rishii found out that my feline friend had no interest in eating him.

During all of this excitement, I had Three-Bee access the ship's computers. Officially, he was checking to make sure the navigation systems weren't locked down. Well, he was doing that too, but he also tried to find information so that I could figure out where I was in the timeline. The year he provided me with wasn't one I recognized. The standard galactic calendar changes numbers based on the most recent galaxy-ending threat or galactic political shift. After the Death Star, time got referred to as ABY (After Battle of Yavin) and BBY (Before Battle of Yavin). Neither of those are present in the ship's databases. I don't know enough about the Legends books to identify any others.

Good news, that means that the Empire might not be around yet.

Bad news, there's still a whole lot of nasty stuff that happened before that. Based on the number I got from Tyren, I've got a thousand-year range to work with.

The current year is 589 PCR (Post-Coruscanti Restoration). I arrived on Ossus at the beginning of 585 PCR. A good enough place to start for now.

* * *

[Year 4: August 27, 2021]

The sun rises on a new day. Our supplies are packed and gear is stowed. The only thing left are a few last bits and the goodbyes.

My conversation with Master Ood was a short and somber one, held less with words and more with sensations across our bond. While it was traditional (at least in his time) to sever the bond between Master and Apprentice upon completion of the Trials, I insisted that mine remain so that I could be alerted if he and the library were in danger.

I loaded the GE3 protocol droid from the repair shop onto the last hover-sled of supplies before leaving the temple. I figured it would give Diem and Three-Bee something to do during the trip. That, and I was going to need a functioning protocol droid to avoid more language barriers. I also paid a quick visit to Richard's grave.

Back at the ship, I'm facing a small crowd of Ysanna tribesmen: Ysrik, Hyra, little Kyrus, and a number of adults and children from the camp. Ysrik gives me a big cheesy grin before enveloping me in a bone-crunching bear hug, lifting me a full foot off the ground. Saving his daughter and helping bring his grandson into the world got me major brownie points with the chieftain.

Hyra gives me a gentler, though no less firm, hug while balancing Kyrus on her hip. As much as she'd love to come with us, she has her duties as both shaman and mother.

I shake hands with the rest of the adults present, a custom I'd accidentally introduced years ago. I manage to get to the last one before the children tackle me to the ground in an attempt to get me to stay. They'd gotten attached in the years since I started coming to their camp to tell stories. As much as my anti-social self would like to deny it, I'd grown to enjoy it too.

Last was Brunhild. She stood apart from the crowd, not wanting to scare them. Her gigantic form plods over when the last of the children is pulled off me. Those big gold eyes that once scared the crap out of me now just look me in the eye.

"Keep an eye on them, will you?" I request quietly. Damn it, who's hiding onions?

She purrs quietly before bumping her forehead against mine, repeating the action for Heracles. Afterwards, she turns around and disappears into the trees.

With a few dozen eyes upon me, I walk up the ramp to find Rivus looking out from the top.

"You could stay here, you know," I remark, "Be a constant part of Kyrus' life. In Hyra's."

The exile shakes his head, "Not now. It hurts us both. Being close yet not being a part of the whole. Make no mistake, I will return one day. But not until I have done something my son can take pride in," I can almost hear the smirk in his voice, "Besides, you are not getting rid of me that easily, Master."

I say no more as he stalks off. No city was built in a day. It will take more time to get Rivus back to the man he once was. But he's trying.

Still tempted to knock his block off though. Cheeky bastard.

I press the button to close the ramp and head for the cockpit. Carver's still poking at the controls and grumbling about the seat.

"Are we ready, Carver?" I ask as I seat myself in the co-pilot's chair. I may not know how to fly, but I want to watch.

"Yeah, we're good. Just need to get up to orbit and calculate hyperspace coordinates," The Zabrak replies, "So, where are we goin', Master Jedi?"

"Why are you asking me?" I raise an eyebrow, "I'm just along for the ride."

He snorts, "Along for the ride, my _shebs_. Ship's yours, Boss. You won her fair and square. She's goin' where you want."

I have to think about it for a minute. Where do I want to go? I haven't really gotten a chance to think about it. The last few days were focused on how to deal with the slavers. Do I want to get in contact with the rest of the Jedi Order?

"Set a course for Co-," An image flashes before my eyes, of a city on a jungle planet. Of a courtyard littered with beast pens. I know that place. Subtle, Force. Subtle.

"Boss?"

"Onderon," I shake my head, "Set course for Onderon."

Carver stiffens slightly, but snaps out of it before I can ask about it, "Right. Onderon, here we come. Should have enough fuel to get there," He rotates the chair to shout out the door, "Hey trash compactor! We need a hyperspace route for Onderon! Get up here!"

The resulting stream of obscenity-laden beeping and whistling was truly something to behold.

The ship's takeoff is a lot smoother than I expected. It still has the increased gravity feel as we soar higher and higher. But soon, we break through the atmosphere. With the artificial gravity on, it feels like I'm watching a move rather than traveling through the void.

As the ship was getting ready to jump, the Zabrak pilot looks at me, "So what are you gonna name the ship? Cause I sure as hell ain't calling it what they used to."

I tap my chin as I look out the viewport, "How about…the _Solemn Night?"_

He shrugs, "Workable. Not the worst I've ever heard," he places his right hand on a lever, "Alright, jumping to hyperspace in three…two…one…mark!"

The void becomes a corridor of streaking white lights.


	5. Interlude 2

**Interlude 2**

Are We There Yet?

[Year 4: September 2, 2021]

According to Three-Bee, we're about two days out from Onderon. We've had to come out of hyperspace a few times over the past week to adjust course, but there have been no incidents.

Interesting fact, Rishii do not do well on starships. It makes them chatter more than usual, hence the state I found him in when we met. For an avian species, I imagine being in any cramped space for any amount of time is uncomfortable. It took some effort, but I managed to calm Ratch down by teaching him bits of Spanish. Rishii love learning new languages and they do it quickly. He now knows about as much as I do. Little bugger took seven days to learn what took me seven years...

Sleep's been hell. The ship's clocks run on the galactic standard of twenty-four hours, so I've been waking up at odd hours in the mornings. Good news, the slavers had caf. Bad news, it wakes everyone else up when I make it. Vanna threatened to stick a fork somewhere unpleasant if I did it again, Force powers be damned. So now I have to wait at least two hours to have my morning coffee, which I've been missing out on for _four_ years. The indignity.

Speaking of everybody else, they've been kind of leery around me after I revealed myself as a Jedi. Well, everybody minus Ratch and Carver. They just don't care. The rest have been aloof, though cordial. They'll answer if I ask a question, but they don't go out of their way to talk to me or Rivus. Understandable, considering the circumstances I found them in and who held them. They're probably going to hop ship as soon as we get to Onderon.

In Diem's case, I think it's just because no one can understand him. After I showed him the broken protocol droid, he nabbed it and locked himself in his room with a tool kit. He's only come out for meals and bathroom breaks. I get the feeling he's almost done as he was in a good mood yesterday.

Like Ratch, space travel does not agree with Rivus. I've found him pacing the halls every now and then during the "day." At least he has the same sleep schedule I do. Sparring is the only thing I can think of to settle him, but using lightsabers inside of a ship doesn't seem like a good idea to me. For now, I've left him to his pacing.

I've asked the others about events in the galaxy after Three-Bee's inconclusive search. After some strange looks, they answered. What they told me...isn't encouraging. While the names of most events and people fly over my head, a few get through. Neither Vallorum nor Palpatine are Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, rather a woman named Genarra that I didn't recognize. The Republic is at the weakest it's been in millennia, to the point where they can't even keep the Galactic Holonet running. The Hutts have picked up some of the slack, but few are willing to deal with them due to the expense. Rumors are how information gets around these days, traded by spacers in each port.

Everything's chaos. The Republic is fragmented, no longer the juggernaut it once was. The Order is spread thin and divided. Raiders are everywhere, even hitting as far as the Inner Rim. The silver lining for that is that they're not united, just scattered bands. The slavers we...killed were one such group.

The only good bit of news they could give me was that some Jedi Master was apparently leading a crusade against the warlords and pirates of the Outer Rim. Understandably, they were pretty excited about that. Couldn't give me a name, but it's something to look into later.

I raided the leftover clothing we found for something that isn't robes. I don't know what the galactic opinion of Jedi is at this time, so I don't want to go flaunting it for all to see when we hit dirt. So I've got a grey sleeveless shirt, black pants, and black boots laid out with my jacket on my bed, formerly that of the slaver captain (which was cleaned quite thoroughly). That thing managed to survive four years in the wilds of Ossus and came out of it only mildly tattered. I jury-rigged a holster for my lightsaber on the inside with some help from Mari, just above the small of my back.

Just as I'm about to take off my outer robe, I feel the weight of the holocron in my pocket. I may have been a bit paranoid, but I got the feeling I shouldn't let it out of reach until I get a chance to access it. I guess I should at least see whose it is while I've got some privacy.

Placing it on the ground, I kneel in front of it and channel a bit of the Force. The box shines before projecting a blue-outlined, six-inch tall figure. The gatekeeper is an elderly man with white hair and white eyes, his face covered with wrinkles.

"Greetings, Jedi," It bows. The Arkanian is soft-spoken, but clear, "I am Master Arca Jeth. How may I be of assistance to you?"

Oh yeah, I know him. Teacher of Nomi Sunrider and the Qel-Droma brothers, Arca Jeth was essentially the Grandmaster of his time. Sending him with a small team of Jedi was considered a _reasonable and appropriate_ response to finding a Sith army.

Alright, I am now a firm believer that there is no such thing as coincidence. First, I get Arca Jeth's holocron. Second, I get a vision prompting me to go to Onderon. Third, something about said planet has Carver spooked. Three times is enemy action, so they say. Or will of the Force, in this case. Conclusion: Some serious shit is going down on Onderon and I'm about to step in it.

"I need to know everything you know of Onderonian history, particularly Freedon Nadd and the Naddist Uprising," I request. I am not walking into this blind. His raised eyebrow makes me pause, consider how much I just sounded like Exar Kun there, and add, "I'm on route to Onderon due to a vision. I need to know what I might be getting into."

"Very well. Accessing archives," The image stills for a moment, "Freedon Nadd, once a member of the Jedi Order, was trained by Master Matta Tremayne at the Ossus Temple…"

* * *

So I listened to the holocron lecture for hours and hours, trying to pin-point what I could potentially be facing and comparing it to what I already know from the comics.

Onderon has a long history with the Dark and it would be a fair assumption to consider it the continuation of Naga Sadow's empire, given that Freedon Nadd learned from him. A lot of their rulers were Sith Lords themselves or at least studied the lore. The last known one was King Ommin, who was toppled by Arca Jeth and his Padawans. Freedon Nadd's ghost was helping the sorcerer, but killed him when he failed before moving on the Keto siblings and Exar Kun.

Freedon Nadd himself can't possibly be at play here. Exar Kun annihilated his spiritual form on Yavin IV and any power left in Nadd's tomb on Dxun was drained by Darth Nihilus fifty years later. Even if he did reform himself after all of that, Master Jeth managed to permanently banish his spirit from Onderon and purge the capital's dark side presence altogether. He was a little vague on how exactly he pulled that bit off, but I got the impression it took a _fuck-ton_ of light-attuned power.

Any known cultists of his were killed during the Uprising. Those that were missed got blown up with Exar Kun and the Krath. Still, Marka Ragnos had an active cult four thousand years after his ghost's last appearance. I can't discount the possibility that there may be a new generation of Naddists running around. But speculation at this point isn't helping since it could be just about anything.

For all I know, Onderon might be terrorized by the Flying Spaghetti Monster. Truly, a fearsome foe.

"Thank you, Master Jeth," I close down the holocron with a sigh before changing. Master Jeth had a lot of fascinating abilities that I'd be interested in learning, but I'm too frustrated and distracted at the moment to concentrate on them.

I need to go brief Rivus on the potential situation before we land.


End file.
